Trapped in Mirrors
by Ramen God
Summary: All he had wanted to do was put some flowers out for Sirius. Now, though, Harry is trapped in a world so similar and yet so different from his own, trying desperately to stay away from superhuman kids, certain psychopathic jesters, and some rather disturbing assassins, all the while searching for a way to get back home.
1. Chapter 1

**Trapped in Mirrors**

Chapter 1

Harry glanced around the incredibly large basement-tunnel-_thing_ and felt the sinking feeling of trepidation in his stomach. Maybe he had been too rash?

He snorted to himself, thinking about the Philosopher's Stone incident… and the Chamber of Secrets… and the time-turner slash rescue Buckbeak and Sirius incident… yeah, that was enough. Rashness wasn't anything new to him. Besides, he had beaten some other poor soul to his Navigator, causing that man to be unable to participate, so he couldn't in good conscience back out now.

"Sir? Sir!" Harry heard someone calling—presumably for him—and looked around, searching for anyone who could've made the noise. "Down here, sir!"

Harry looked down and saw… green. A rubbery, vaguely bean-shaped green blob, to be exact. "Uh. Hi?" he asked, rather confused. Not his most eloquent moment, admittedly.

"Your number, sir. Please pin it onto your chest," the thing said. Harry thought it was probably a guy, but it was a little bit hard to tell. He looked down at the circular badge that had been pressed into his hand, flipping it over to inspect the printed number.

Three hundred seventy-three. The numbers that had the most magical power—something he was intimately familiar with by now. Was that bad luck or good luck, he wondered? His particular fortune seemed to come in alternating waves between the two.

"Why am I doing this to myself?" he muttered aloud, taking care to keep his voice down. Even though, from the look of these people, there were far more eccentric weirdoes than poor innocent teenagers who talked to themselves (especially considering he had seen one specific person who had _thick needles stuck in his face_), he didn't really want to be branded crazy so soon. It would have been more convenient just to think silently, but it just didn't have the same despairing 'I'm-the-stupidest-person-alive' feeling as talking aloud did.

'It's all to get back home,' he thought determinedly to himself, steeling his nerves. 'Back to Ron and Hermione and Ginny and…'

"Hey! Rookie!" Harry was rudely jolted out of his thoughts by a loud, almost brash voice.

This time, he looked down first. 'Never let it be said that I don't learn,' he thought proudly. His gaze met… a belly. A rather overweight, chubby belly too. He slowly directed his eyes upward, meeting the eyes of a plump-faced, brown-haired man.

"Hi…" he murmured cautiously, one hand reflexively wrapping around the base of the Elder Wand hidden up his sleeve, tucked away into a wand holster.

"Your first time here, right?" The man cheerfully asked, smiling broadly.

"You can tell?" Harry knit his eyebrows together, slightly worried. This new place-country-world was a lot more focused on the physical aspects compared to his world (his _home_) but he liked to think that managing to survive and lead one war should've hardened him to the point where he could at least appear confident and competent.

"Don't worry, I could only tell because I'd never seen your face before. I've taken the test thirty-five times already, you see, so I know just about everyone here," the man explained. "Oh yes, by the way, my name's Tonpa! What about you?"

"…Call me Harry," he offered, not giving up a last name, especially as this _Tonpa_ hadn't either. "Thirty-five times? How… impressive." And in a way, it really was. If Tonpa had been honestly trying thirty-five times in a row and still had the fortitude and mental strength to continue on, then Harry commended him. Harry's stubbornness was legendary, but even he wasn't sure if he could do the same if he had been rejected thirty plus times.

"So, why'd you decide to take this exam? You look pretty young!" Tonpa probed.

Harry gave him a long look, debating the merits of answering, before deciding it couldn't do that much harm. All he had to do was bend the truth a little and it would all be fine. "I want to go somewhere far away, and I need a Hunter license to get there."

None of it was a lie. He was fairly certain that going to an alternate universe constituted as being very far away, and while he didn't _need_ a Hunter license, it would be extremely convenient to have one. All the lanes of questioning he had attempted (bar Legilimency, but he didn't exactly have enough faith in that particular skill to be able to successfully invade someone's thoughts without totally destroying said person's mind) were closed or blocked, and a fair number of those channels could be opened with a license.

Besides, even if that fell through, there were multiple ways that becoming a Hunter could become helpful to him. Even investigative purposes—maybe someone _here_ knew what exactly the Veil was?

"Oh, I see," Tonpa nodded, still smiling amiably. It was getting kind of creepy, actually. Who came up to random newbies and just struck up a conversation with them? Even if Tonpa had wanted to comfort him out of the kindness of his heart, Harry was sure that he hadn't really looked nervous in the first place. Resigned? Yes. Annoyed? Yes. Despairing-at-his-own-stupidity? Of course. But nervous? No way.

The silence stretched on between them.

"Um… So…? Did you need anything…?" he attempted, wincing at his own awkwardness. So he wasn't good with people. Sue him.

Harry squinted to see clearer. Did he just see a vein twitch? Wow, Tonpa must be really irritated. He felt mildly offended, actually. He hadn't done _that_ much, even, just been his normal awkward, Gryffindor-ish self.

"Oh no, there's nothing. I was just going to offer you a drink, actually. It could calm your nerves." Tonpa held out a bright orange can of juice. After a moment's pause, Harry accepted it, rolling it in his hands to read the fine print on the back of the can.

"Thanks," he said, putting it in the small waist-pouch-thing he had bought for an exceedingly cheap price (and which was, consequentially, extremely poor quality, but who needed stuff like good-quality bags when he had magic? With the amount of spells he had loaded on the thing it could probably withstand a nuclear bomb, contain a mansion, and then some). Then he stared at Tonpa for a while longer. "Um…" he prompted, wondering if there was anything else the mildly suspicious man wanted.

"I'll just be going now, then. Best of luck, rookie-san!" Tonpa waved and turned away after a moment of strained silence.

"You too...?" Harry called after him. When Tonpa had been lost in the crowd, he weaved through people in the opposite direction until he stood in the shadow of a wall. Discretely, he pulled out the can and let his wand fall into his hand, murmuring a charm to detect poisons and the like (it had been very, very convenient during the war). He watched as the little meter that appeared blinked a light orange—not a particularly lethal poison, then, but still harmful enough to put him out of action for a few days. It had become practice to use this spell before every meal and drink, though it was not a habit he enjoyed. It was, undeniably, rather helpful though.

"Evanesco," he muttered, vanishing the can and all the liquid within it.

Another reminder that he could trust no one in this foreign world.

He sighed, leaning his head backwards against the stone wall. How exactly had he gotten himself into this mess? It could pretty much be summed up in one word.

Veil.

He had gotten into the habit of paying tribute to what was, in a way, Sirius' grave each year. When he was twenty-five, he had decided to bring a bouquet of flowers in. An innocuous enough present, surely.

One careless gesture, one brush of skin against the silky grey material of the Veil in an effort to pick up the scattered flowers, and he was _gone_.

Harry had woken up in the middle of nowhere, back in his seventeen-year old body (which was still scrawny and small enough to be mistaken for a fourteen or fifteen year old) with no idea where he was or how he was going to get back.

And thus, through much confusion and pain and effort, he was led here. To the Hunter Exams. He had met many people—some kind, some not so much—who had either directly or indirectly hinted at what benefits being a Hunter could bring. He desperately needed that: _some _method of investigation into how to return home.

'If I was Hermione,' he thought despondently to himself, 'I could probably just invent a spell that could cross worlds, especially with the Elder Wand in my possession.'

When Harry had inexplicably appeared into this strange world (Merlin knows that the animals here were _messed up_), his beloved holly and phoenix feather wand was nowhere to be found. Even now, he still felt an ache in his chest at the thought of its loss. Instead, the Elder Wand had neatly tucked into his wand holster, the Resurrection Stone in his boot, and the Invisibility Cloak draped around his shoulders.

The only explanation he could think of was that the Veil must be connected to death, which would also explain how he was stuck in his seventeen-year old body again—it was the age at which he had last died (and if anyone else heard that they would probably think he was insane). And what was more intimately connected with death than the Deathly Hallows? Nothing, except maybe Harry himself. But then what was the connection to this particular world? There must be millions of universes out there, so why this one?

Argh, whatever! He had gone over this so many times in his head, and he couldn't understand for the life of him. He huffed childishly, blowing a messy strand of black hair out of his face. He reached up to adjust his glasses, but ended up groping his face instead.

"Wha—?" he started, but then remembered. He had brewed a temporary eyesight correction potion (that he had thankfully used enough times to memorize the steps, and thank every god and goddess under the sky that he could find the correct ingredients even in this weird world) for the duration of the Exam. It would surely be inconvenient to have to deal with his glasses in what was reputed to be such a dangerous set of trials.

He coughed into his hand, stuffing both hands into the pockets of his loose black pants awkwardly. He must be creating such a bad impression right now. Merlin, he hoped no one saw that.

He dimly heard some sort of commotion in the background, but it didn't sound violent so he ignored it. If anything, it sounded like an excited child. But that was ridiculous, because what would anyone under seventeen be doing here, if the exam was so life-threatening?

Harry paused. Could that be considered hypocrisy? It wouldn't be, would it? He wasn't _actually_ seventeen, after all, even if his body looked that age… Or younger… Whatever, it didn't matter. The point was, no child in his or her right mind would come to a test like this.

Right at that moment, he glanced up and saw a rather short and slight figure with a shock of poufy silver-white hair passing in front of him, holding a skateboard under one hand and whistling cheerfully. He blinked slowly. The boy couldn't have been more than thirteen.

"Well, found one such lunatic, I suppose," he muttered to himself. He started when clear blue eyes swiveled to stare-slash-glare at him. Harry just looked back. There was no way the kid heard him, right? He'd barely even made an audible noise! But the suspicious look in those cerulean eyes was undeniable.

Laughing weakly, Harry waved a hand in the boy's direction, offering up an I'm-totally-innocent smile. After a second, the white-haired boy rolled his eyes and casually sauntered away.

Harry let his hand drop, just staring after the small figure. What the heck? Were even little cute twelve-year olds (barely second years at Hogwarts) scary psychopathic killers who were willing to enter a deadly exam? What had this world come to?

(He knew those eyes, after all. They were the eyes of a killer. The eyes he saw in the mirror each morning.)

He was still frowning, silently ranting on the impossibility of midget super-humans taking impossible trials to become even more of a superhuman midget when a terrified scream broke him out of his thoughts.

Harry shot to his feet, fifteen inches of painstakingly polished elder wood falling instantly into his hand as he sought to isolate the possible danger.

"M-my arms! Help! Someone! My arms! _Arghhh_!" His head snapped towards the wailing cries and he shoved (as discretely as it was possible to discretely shove) through the horrified crowd. He stopped, stricken as he saw a man writhing on the ground, arms dissolving impossibly into glimmering red clovers.

'Magic?' was his first thought as he stood, tensed and ready. He was certain that such a thing would be possible in his world, but here? He'd yet to hear about such abilities. Then there was the guilt that came with the knowledge that, even if he could've helped, he probably wouldn't have.

Harry was the first to admit that he'd had a _bit_ of a hero-complex, especially in his Hogwarts days. But after seeing the most gruesome tortures imaginable by Voldemort and his little Death Munchers, and a good eight years as one of the Ministry's top Aurors had gone a long way towards healing his inclination to blindly help anyone.

He would always, _always_ help the innocent, but in this case—his first and only priority was to get home. By entering the Hunter Exam, everyone here had just about signed away their lives anyway—they had all known what they were getting into.

Suddenly he was struck by the thought, 'Even the kids?' He swallowed harshly, remembering the small corpses he had seen during the war—there were none more innocent than the children. This he knew even when he himself was but a child—the young and weak are meant to be protected.

'No,' he decided. 'Not the children.' If worst came to worst, and he was out of commission to the point where he could not provide aid, then so be it. But until that point came, he would try to protect those who could still be considered as children, naïve though such a thought may be. Preferably without said children finding out, though, he thought with a shudder. Whitey's glare was pretty scary… for a brat.

"Oh, how peculiar… His arms seem to have become flower petals." A pause, a chuckle, and then the man continued onwards, "No smoke and mirrors here." The velvety, terrifyingly sadistic voice broke Harry out of his thoughts. His hand tightened around the handle of the Elder Wand as nigh unnoticeable tremors shook him.

This man was _strong_. No, that wasn't a powerful enough word—this man was a barely-restrained monster made human. What sort of ability was this? It had the taste of not-magic (so familiar, so tantalizingly out of reach, always so close yet so far in this strange land), so very close to the magic of back home, but _different_ somehow. More untamed—but not really, because who knows better than Harry just how volatile magic can be?

He could not describe it. There was a constant pulsation of energy, almost like magic but different, all around him from each and every individual, stronger in some than others. This pale-skinned man with the red-pink hair (as if it had been washed in blood), with the almost childish tattoos and the jester themed clothes—this man's _energy_ was stronger than anyone else he had encountered in this world so far. Granted, he had tried to stay out of truly dangerous situations as best he could, but still—this man was completely, undeniably deadly.

Harry swallowed, feeling a light bead of sweat roll down his temple. He had to stay out of this man's way—he could not afford to get in trouble when he still knew so little, when he had so much to lose and yet so very little. He seared the man's number into his mind—_forty-four._ To be avoided at all costs.

Harry slowly backed up through the crowd, never taking his eyes off of the man even as the red-haired man glibly continued onwards, "Do take care. When you bump into someone, you really should apologize."

He froze, disbelieving. This man—this terrifying, dangerous man—had _killed_ someone merely because the other man had bumped into him? Where was the regard for _life_? Were these people really so callous as to simply take away another's dreams, hopes, ambitions, future, _life_ for such a petty, meaningless reason?

Bile rising up in his throat, Harry took another step back until he was out of number forty-four's vision range. As he was leaving, eager to get as far away from that psychopath as possible, he heard Tonpa's voice in the background.

"Number forty-four. Hisoka, the magician," Tonpa was explaining to another group of kids (or at least two were kids, the other looked like he was in his middle ages). Why exactly were there so many brats so eager to die these days?

Harry determined ignored the irony in that statement.

But really, _magician_? That man, Hisoka, was a magician like Harry was a house-elf. Their abilities vaguely came into the same spectrum, but like _hell_ were they the same thing.

"…until he all but killed an examiner he didn't like." He overheard Tonpa finishing. That was enough for Harry—he already knew to avoid Hisoka like the plague, and he had all the tools to accomplish such a deed.

He was as far as humanly possible from Hisoka, yet still in the same giant room-thing, when a loud, grating ringing noise erupted out of nowhere. For the nth time this _hour_, the Elder Wand slid smoothly into Harry's hand.

Just as abruptly, the noise shut off, leaving blessed silence behind. With a loud rumble, the far semi-circular wall of the tunnel slowly rose, revealing a single, lean man. Harry narrowed his green eyes, straining to pick out the details of the figure.

Strangely flipped silver-violet hair, a curly mustache, and almost unnaturally lean limbs—overall a quite unassuming appearance, if rather unique—if not for the aura around him. Not as blood-thirsty and soul-chilling as number forty-four's had been, but still with an undeniable refined power so different from everyone else Harry had met.

So the Hunter Exams really were something special, huh?

Harry listened carefully as the man made his introductions and announced the beginning of the Hunter Exams.

"Very well. All four hundred and four applicants will participate in Phase One," with those words, the man began marching off with a very… _interesting_ walking style.

Bemused, Harry attempted to copy it for a little out of personal interest. It was… extremely difficult. How do people do this? While he was still attempting to move his limbs in the same manner as the man leading them, he noticed people beginning to run around him.

He sighed, finally dropping the attempt, and sprinted so he was closer to the front and therefore would find it easier to listen. The man was beginning to speak again.

"I neglected to introduce myself. I am Satotz, the Phase One examiner. I shall lead you to the exam's Second Phase," Satotz's crisp voice rang out. Harry instantly picked up on the underneath—the First Phase had already begun.

Tuning out the rest of the commotion, he swiveled his head in an attempt to locate Hisoka who was… lurking somewhere near the middle-ish back. 'Okay,' he decided, staying at the front the entire time it is. Besides, it was always safest next to the examiner, especially in what was presumably a marathon-endurance-speed-tracking test of some sort.

Harry discretely aimed a tracking spell towards Satotz, then blinked in shock when it was dodged with a barely noticeable movement to the right. Wha—?

How does someone dodge something that should be completely unnoticeable?! Unless this Satotz could sense his magic as well? If he could sense the strange energy despite the fact that he could only wield his magic, then would it stand to reason that Satotz could sense his magic despite the fact that he could only use the energy?

He hesitated, wondering if it was the smartest idea to try again, before deciding with all his Gryffindor rashness, 'Why not?' Aiming carefully even as he moved his arms in a running movement, this time Harry pumped substantially more magic into the tracking spell even as he concealed it's typically bright color.

Once more, Satotz avoided it neatly and without hassle, never breaking stride.

Was it all just instinct? If so, then that was _so_ unfair.

"Number three hundred seventy-three, if you do not cease your attempts to attack an examiner, you will be disqualified immediately," Satotz intoned, sounding quite disinterested.

…Oh. Well. That debunked that theory.

"Of course, sir, wouldn't dream of it," Harry responded, plastering the most innocent expression on his face that he could. Some other applicants near him cast curious looks—they hadn't seen a single movement that looked like an attack. Harry just ignored the curious gazes.

Falling into a comfortable, but still quick pace, Harry idly wondered how long he had to run. His stamina was on the high side for a wizard, but from what he had seen of Hunters, he had a long way to go. But that was what magic was for, right?

And Pepper-Ups, of course.

Pepper-Ups were the inventions of god. It was undeniable.

Sighing, Harry steeled himself for a long and painful day.

'_I hate life, I hate life, I hate life, IhatelifeIhatelife_IhatelifeIHATELIFE—!' Such had become Harry's mantra over the past, oh, five or six hours of painful running torture.

Harry had lasted the first three to four hours of misery before finally giving into the temptation of potions. He could fly with the best of them, oh yes, but running? He was more of a short sprint guy compared to a freaking EIGHTY KILOMETER MARATHON AT SPRINTING SPEED.

Or so he guesstimated, anyway. His sense of time and distance had become rather distorted after he fell into a trance of right foot step, left foot step, one, right foot step, left foot step, two… And so on so forth.

Miraculously, he was still right behind the examiner. His breathing was hard, but he could still keep going for a while yet, if need be—like he had said, Pepper-Ups were the work of god. He didn't even appear that tired, but he definitely felt it.

He had long ago taken off his dark green jacket, dropping it in his black hole of a small bag. The only problem would be if he could get it back out again later… The thing was practically a Gringotts vault in and of itself.

He perked up as he felt something change through his running haze. Then he saw what was ahead of him and resisted the temptation to scream curses aloud.

Why was his life filled with such torture?

Someone, just kill him now. Mercy, please.

What could've caused Harry Potter, the Savior, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Man-Who-Conquered, to wish for such a thing?

_Stairs. _

Harry kind of wanted to cry now, actually. The winding staircase in front of him seemed to go on forever, and Harry really, really, _really _didn't want to run anymore.

He contemplated unshrinking his Firebolt, which was currently hung like some bizarre piece of jewelry around his neck, and just coasting on that all the way to wherever they were going in the first place. He had blessed his (sometimes) good luck that he had been wearing the Firebolt-necklace when he had, for lack of a better term, jumped worlds.

He was even pretty sure that it wasn't against the rules! Actually, he didn't even know if there _were _any rules in this particular exam. No attacking the examiner, he knew from experience, but anything else, as far as he knew, was fair game. Harry was pretty sure he had seen Whitey drifting around on a skateboard a while ago, anyway.

But, no, he decided sadly. A skateboard was one thing, but a floating broom that a person could ride on? He really doubted that that would go unquestioned. Unless he wore his invisibility cloak? That wouldn't work either, as he couldn't just put on the cloak and disappear in front of everyone—and there was no way whatsoever that he would move to the back to put it on.

Hisoka=no way in hell.

Sucking it up and running it was. Harry made a mental note to bump up the physical aspect of his training as soon as he finished this exam. There were actually spells he could use to increase speed, stamina, and strength, but with no knowledge as to how long this exam could take, he needed to conserve magic.

He startled as two small figures passed him, looking fresh as daisies. One fluffy white head was particularly familiar, though the other spiky black-haired boy was unknown.

"Ah, Whi—!" he cut himself off, remembering the kid's abnormally sharp hearing and how Whitey wasn't _actually_ his name. Maybe it was best if he just remained quiet…

Too late. The boy had heard, and had turned to look at him, running backwards up the stairs without any effort at all. "It's you!"

Harry smiled wanly, cursing himself in his head. He really should've just kept his mouth shut. He had planned to talk to no one, if he could help it, let alone kids who he was probably going to protect out of personal morals.

"Hey," he offered up, still smiling, slightly jealous of how the kid could just bound up the stairs—backwards, at that. Then there was him, who was slowly dying on the inside.

"Who is this, Killua?" the black-haired boy beside Whitey asked curiously, turning his head to look at Harry. Harry mentally filed away the name. Whitey=Killua.

…What a scary name. It sounded like a murderer. It even had the word 'kill' in it!

"He called me a lunatic earlier," Killua informed his friend, sounding childishly affronted.

"Eh? That's not very nice!" The other boy exclaimed, frowning. Killua snickered, nodding along faux-solemnly.

"Uh-huh! You should give me an apology!" Killua grinned playfully, but Harry could still see the suspicion lurking underneath the childish, carefree exterior.

"…I'm very sorry, then," Harry apologized after a moment's consideration. It was better to just say sorry rather than unnecessarily prolong or drag out such a trivial conflict.

"Nah, it's fine," the white-haired boy waved it off. "Ne, you look around our age, right? How old are you?"

Harry felt rather offended. Sure, he was a bit small for a seventeen year old (even though he was actually _twenty five_ for heaven's sake), but surely he didn't look young enough to be mistaken for a twelve year old?

He sighed. Who was he kidding? His seventeen year old body was pathetically tiny for someone who had already come of age. Resigned to the shock that would come, he muttered, "I'm seventeen, actually."

"What? No way!" the black-haired boy cried out, completely surprised. "You can't be older than thirteen!"

Harry died a little inside.

"Hahaha, you and that old man are _both_ teenagers?" Killua was laughing hysterically, yet _still_ managed to be running backwards without cracking his skull against the stairs. By this point, Harry was more than mildly impressed.

"Don't be mean…" Harry muttered, unconsciously pouting. Was he getting more childish the longer he stayed around little kids? Oh, the horror!

"Hey, hey, what's your name?" The black-haired boy looked back at him, amber-brown eyes shining curiously. "My name's Gon, and this is Killua!"

"…Call me Harry," he said. "It's nice to meet you."

"Mm!" Gon made an affirmative noise, cheerfully exclaiming, "It's nice to meet you too, Harry!"

Harry looked away awkwardly. It was hard to deal with people like this, who were so _happy_ all the time, and so purely innocent besides. When he had been that age, he had been an angsty _brat_. Then again, that was around the time he was being accused by the entire school for the first time, so he had good reason to be angsty…

His eyes widened as he saw a light at the end of the staircase-tunnel. "Hey—!" he called out, pointing ahead at the distant glow.

Killua's head swiveled around to look where his finger was pointing, then his blue eyes shone. "We're almost out! Hey Gon, let's race!" He finally turned so he was running normally up the staircase, ready to sprint to the end.

"Okay!" Gon excitedly agreed, also gearing up to run off. "Ready… set… go!"

The two kids sped off, leaving Harry behind. Green eyes brightened at the thought of an _end_ to this torture… hopefully. "Almost done…" he muttered, speeding up as well, but not nearly as much as the two younger boys.

"Gooooooooal!" he dimly heard as Killua and Gon jumped to the top of the staircase right behind Satotz. He himself passed a few moments later, albeit much more quietly, to an argument between the two about who had to buy who dinner.

Bent over, panting slightly, Harry watched them in bemusement. How did they have so much _energy_?

"Ne, ne, Harry, who do you think won?" Gon questioned seriously, fixing his large brown eyes on Harry. Killua too turned expectant bright blue eyes on Harry.

"I didn't see, sorry," Harry said quickly, choosing not to get involved. It was true too, he just didn't mention he had a spell that could probably determine the victor. As the competition was light-hearted and fun anyway, he didn't really see a need to make it complicated.

The other contestants began making it to the top as well, gathering into a loose crowd and talking among themselves in relief. Harry was beginning to feel slightly claustrophobic, so he moved to the outskirts of the people. He then saw Hisoka grinning creepily, and promptly turned right back around, marching back to where Killua and Gon were.

"Harry? Where'd you go?" Gon questioned innocently.

"…Just to go take a look at something," Harry replied in lieu of saying, 'I wanted to get away from all these people, saw Hisoka, and decided it was a better idea to just stay here.'

Killua gave him an assessing look that clearly said the white-haired boy knew he wasn't telling the whole truth, but let it go to talk with Gon excitedly. It was the clear the two were becoming fast friends.

He saw the black-haired boy's other two companions come up at the back of the crowd. So the other kid had made it too—one more to watch out for, although probably not quite as much. The blond boy looked around seventeen or eighteen, after all—old enough to fight, old enough to die. He had still rather hoped that he would just drop out at the beginning though, where it was presumably safest.

Oh, he'd nearly forgotten. Discretely, Harry inched his wand out of his sleeve and aimed it at each of the three kids in turn, Gon first, then Killua, and finally Blondie over there. It would be best to have tracking and monitoring spells on them for the duration of this exam—that way he could try his best not to let them die. He smiled in relief as each spell hit, none of the three showing any sign that they detected the spells, unlike a certain examiner standing a few feet away with his eyebrows raised, most likely because of Harry's magic use.

Harry paused, a sudden thought striking him. Wouldn't it be very convenient to have a few spells on Hisoka as well? So he knew how to avoid the terrifying man? But he really, _seriously_ doubted that he could manage to plant a tracking and monitoring spell on Hisoka. If Satotz could detect the use of magic, then Hisoka definitely could too. And unlike Satotz, Harry didn't know what Hisoka would do at all if said spells _were_ detected.

An unpredictable opponent was always the most dangerous.

Still, Harry could really think of no other way to keep track of a man such as Hisoka. It wouldn't hurt to try, would it? Mustering up all his Gryffindor courage, Harry aimed the Elder Wand at Hisoka, about to cast the spell, when Satotz suddenly began talking and everyone turned his direction. Lightning fast, Harry slid the wand back into his wand holster. He couldn't afford people seeing his magic.

"The Numere Wastelands, also known as the Swindlers' Swamp. We must cross these wetlands to reach Phase Two of the exam. This place is home to many bizarre animals, many of them cunning, insatiable creatures that deceive and prey upon humans. Be very careful. If you let them fool you…" Satotz paused, turning to look at the murmuring crowd behind him, "…you're dead."

As if by some unspoken cue, the tunnel which they had all just came out of abruptly began closing with a rumbling sound. Harry winced as he heard the despairing cries of those left behind. 'It must be horrible to be so close, yet so far, to your goal,' he mused.

Satotz continued on with his apparent introduction to the second half of the First Phase, "These wetland creatures will use every trick in the book to fool their prey. An environment in which creatures obtain food and survive only through deceit… Hence the name, Swindlers' Swamp." He turned back around with one last warning, "Stay very close to me so you won't be deceived."

Harry listened intently—this place was sounding like a mixture between a Slytherin's den and the Forbidden Forest. Never a particularly good combination. Not to mention it would mean more running…

"Don't let them fool you!" A desperate cry rang out from around the corner of the sealed tunnel entrance.

Harry turned with the rest of the crowd to view an average looking man, scraped and bruised, stagger into view. He frowned to himself. There was something… _different_ about this man.

"D-don't fall for it… He's lying to you!" the unknown man continued, pointing accusingly at Satotz. The tense crowd of Hunter applicants whispered to each other, confused and suspicious. Harry just continued to observe the man. There was something off about the guy, he just knew it. Now if only he could figure out _what_…

He was tuning out the man's claims that he was the real examiner and not Satotz—which was completely impossible, that refined not-magic aura made Harry certain of that—still puzzling over what was so strange, when the realization hit him, brought on by the 'Man-Faced Ape' the man brandished.

The man didn't have that an aura at all. Every person he had met so far had had it, no matter how small, weak, or unrefined the energy had been. Then, of course, there were people like _Hisoka_ and Satotz, whose auras were developed to the point that it made him uncomfortable being around them.

The not-magic didn't feel _bad_, necessarily, but it only served as a reminder that this world was different from his own. Even if the energy felt slightly similar, it was so obviously different after a second glance that every time he brushed against such a concentrated aura, it was like a knife wound to the heart.

But back to the point, this average looking man accusing Satotz of fraud didn't _have_ an aura. At all. Could he be concealing it? 'No,' Harry decided, 'I'm fairly certain I could've sensed it even under concealment. It takes energy to hide something as well, after all.'

So how could this man not have that strange aura? Was he like a Muggle? No way, as even the most civilian of civilians that Harry had come across had some form of the not-magic.

That only really left one option. This man wasn't actually a man at all—if he had to wager, he would guess that the fake-examiner was one of the Man-Faced Apes that he had attempted to use to accuse Satotz. It would fit all the information given to them on said animals, after all. It wasn't a far leap of logic to make.

Unfortunately, Harry really did not feel inclined to share his revelations. At the same time, though, he didn't really want a battle to break out if those too suspicious attacked Satotz… Then he might never get this Exam over with and become a Hunter. What to do? Dilemmas, dilemmas…

After a moment's consideration, ignoring the rising fury of the crowd around him, Harry decided he might as well just take the Man-Faced Ape out of commission. With any luck, whatever the monkey used to change his face would be undone in unconsciousness, and if not, at least the ease in which the animal was taken out should awaken some suspicions. Mind made up, Harry was about to cast a Stunner (silent and wandless, so he didn't have to reveal himself), when someone acted before him.

Three playing cards planted themselves into the imposter's chest, almost faster than Harry could see. He bit back the horrified shout that he had instinctively wanted to release, instantly knowing who had done this.

Simultaneously, out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Satotz smoothly catch three razor sharp playing cards speeding towards him. Slowly and carefully, Harry turned to see Hisoka, who was casually shuffling a deck of cards in the air. He swallowed almost painfully, fear once more racing through him. It was inexplicable, but something about Hisoka's very presence sent shivers up and down his spine. Harry hated it—the feeling of being so weak.

Hisoka chuckled, a silky, smooth sound as he murmured, "I see, I see…" uncaring of the horrified, riveted audience all around him, Harry amongst them. "That settles it…You're the real one." At that last statement, Hisoka looked straight to Satotz.

While everyone else looked in the direction of Hisoka's gaze, Harry took the chance and ran with it. Not even hesitating, Harry whipped out his wand and cast the most powerful tracking charm he knew, following it up immediately with a monitoring spell. Breath caught in his throat, Harry watched Hisoka warily for a reaction.

He got one. Hisoka startled, albeit almost unnoticeably, but still got hit with both spells.

Harry frowned, suspicious. He should feel happy that he had succeeded—but he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that Hisoka had _let_ himself get hit.

At that very moment, Hisoka snapped his head around and pinned him with a stare, not quite glaring, but filled with what Harry could only describe as amused interest. Harry took a step back involuntarily, but met the golden eyes square on. It wouldn't do to show weakness.

A slow smile spread across the red-haired man's sharp features, something almost maniacal sparking in those sharp eyes. Harry numbly noticed that he himself was trembling, shivers wracking his small body.

Then, just as quickly as it had come, the moment passed. Hisoka turned back to Satotz, continuing onto his explanation as to how he knew Satotz was the real examiner, that silky, amused tone never once wavering.

Harry didn't hear a thing, caught up in the horror that he was still frozen by. He didn't even know why he was so scared—while he in no way knew the extent of Hisoka's abilities and he didn't know if he could _beat_ the other man, he was certain that, if need be, he could escape him. And Harry, in his rather short but war-torn life, had faced at least a few who were around Hisoka's skill level. But still—this man terrified him in a way no man, not even Voldemort, had before.

He finally snapped out of his reverie when the group set off. He instantly sped up his pace so he was at the front of the group—once more, far away from Hisoka. However, his neck prickled as he sensed those eyes, filled with wicked amusement and interest, trained on his back. Trembling, Harry only increased his pace even more, desperately hoping for the fog to increase.

After a few more minutes of running, the gaze disappeared, lost through the ever thickening mist. Relieved, Harry finally let himself relax. Now that he had the chance, he focused in on the four separate 'connections' he had formed.

Gon's link appeared as a light, pure green thread, extending off behind him into the fog. He could tell that Gon wasn't far behind him and in good condition.

Next to the green glow on his 'radar' that was Gon, was a bright, almost electric blue for Killua. The white-haired boy was also in good shape, although Harry could sense a slight anxiety.

The blond teenager was farther behind the two, in good health as well. Harry hadn't used as strong a tracking and monitoring spell for him, so he couldn't be as precise as he could with the younger children.

Finally, there was _him_. Hesitantly, Harry opened his consciousness to the blood red glow that was Hisoka. The thread connecting the two, invisible to any but Harry, was stronger than the other three. When Harry's mind touched it, though, he couldn't help but mentally recoil. There was a sadistic bloodlust within, and something inherently _terrifying_. Shuddering, Harry honed in on the location. Hisoka was a fair distance behind Killua and Gon, which in turn meant he was quite far away from Harry himself, thank goodness, but unsettling close to the blond boy.

…Actually, Harry felt kind of stalker-ish. It was for their own good, though! And it wasn't like he would keep it always open… Yeah, so he was probably a terrible, creepy person. Whatever.

…He felt no remorse whatsoever when it came to Hisoka though.

Harry tensed as he suddenly felt Hisoka's blood red 'light' come to a stop. The blond boy's stopped as well as few seconds later. What had happened?

His mouth opened in a silent gasp as he nearly stumbled, a wave of bloodlust washing over him from the other side of Hisoka's link. Hisoka was thirsting for _death_. And from the apprehensive fear coming faintly through from the golden link, the blond boy was one of the targets.

Harry wondered what he should do. He had put the link on the boy in the first place because he wanted no children to die—but at the same time, he desperately, selfishly yearned to stay as _far away_ as possible from Hisoka as possible. But still—he had promised himself. He had to go. Didn't he?

He was still wavering back and forth, caught between the lingering remains of his hero-complex and the overwhelming terror that Hisoka brought forth, when he felt Gon's clear green glow abruptly move back towards Hisoka's and the blond boy's, speeding the opposite direction from Harry at amazing speeds.

He swore aloud, uncaring of how the applicants around him looked at him strangely, swiveling on his heel and running back into the fog, heading for where he could sense the pulsing auras. One boy, still a child, could make him waver, but two? And especially one so young? He would not be able to forgive himself if he did nothing.

Harry muttered, "Expecto Patronum," barely waiting for the ghostly stag to appear before sprinting as quickly as he could through the forest, following the faintly glowing lines back to where Hisoka, Gon, and the blond boy were, casting speed enhancement spells on himself as he went. His Patronus, knowing his intentions, bounded ahead of him, clearing the fog and leading him around any potentially lethal flora and fauna.

'Please, please, _please_ let me be fast enough,' he pleaded mentally. He had no wish to see any more children die. That fateful battle—the battle that had ended the war—had been enough for an eternity.

After a few more strained minutes of sprinting at top speed, Harry slowed as he felt himself approaching the three's general location. He paused for a second, realizing he didn't have a plan at all, but forged forwards when he felt Gon's anger and protective instinct surge and Hisoka's interest mount.

He hastily summoned his invisibility cloak out of the charmed bag he wore, draping it around his shoulders and pulling the hood up. With all luck, the cloak should be able to conceal his magic and presence, not just his visibility—he hadn't exactly tested it, but as a Deathly Hallow, the Peverell brother's Invisibility Cloak should have perfect concealment. Or at least, he desperately hoped it did.

Harry crept forward, wand in hand, breaking into a small clearing just fast enough to see Gon whack Hisoka across the face with a… fishing rod? 'Oh,' he dimly noted in the back of his mind, '_that's_ what that thing was for.' He heard a faint grunt from Hisoka, and through the monitoring charm, a rising sense of surprised glee.

It _might_ have been hilarious if Harry hadn't been so horrified at the thought of what Hisoka would do in retaliation. He wavered, wondering what to do. Protect Gon? Or just stop Hisoka?

"I made it in time," he heard Gon say, small shoulders shaking. With fear? Harry concentrated on their connection. From what he could feel, it was a mixture of terror, exhilaration, protective anger, and adrenaline.

Gon was a _genuinely_ good person, he realized. There was no doubt in his mind that the younger boy had only come back to save his friend—the middle-aged man that he had only just noticed lying on the ground.

He could not let such a person (that reminded him so much of his much, much younger self, so young and naïve and desperately wanting to protect his friends, albeit much less angsty) die. Not against a psychopath like Hisoka.

He kept his green eyes trained on Hisoka's face, which was still turned away from the impact, a faint red blooming on the man's abnormally pale white skin. He hadn't even noticed, but he had been holding his breath, the tension in the air almost too much for him.

Finally, Hisoka turned around to look at Gon, a smirk tugging up his pale lips. "Not bad… _little boy_," was all he said, unnaturally bright yellow eyes gleaming even through the fog. Harry switched his gaze to Gon, watching how his small hands tightened around his fishing pole.

At that exact moment, unnoticed by Harry, Hisoka's sharp golden gaze flitted over the spot where Harry stood, cloaked and invisible, by the forest, even more interest filling his eyes.

"Is that a fishing pole? What a fascinating weapon," Hisoka said aloud, with the smooth silkiness of a predator. Slowly but steadily, he began taking steps closer to Gon. The black-haired boy, in turn, tensed even further. The close Hisoka got to Gon, the more Harry could sense Hisoka's anticipation rising in the still open link his monitoring spell had left.

As he walked closer, Hisoka extended a snowy white, long fingered hand toward Gon, a surprisingly elegant gesture. "Allow me a closer look," he coaxed, pleasure evident in his face as he stalked down his prey.

Right as Harry was about to intervene, as Hisoka grew ever closer to Gon, he heard a lower voice from behind Hisoka. "Your fight… is with _me_!" The man, Gon's friend, charged Hisoka bravely, a wooden branch clenched tightly in his fist.

Harry let out an awed breath despite himself. What _courage_—there was no way the older man didn't know he was outmatched, and yet he still powered on to an impossible goal—Hisoka. Some might call it stupidity or folly, but courage was more than fifty percent blind foolishness anyway. 'He would have made a great Gryffindor… And Gon too,' Harry thought absentmindedly, still watching the fight (more like a one-sided beat down, actually) intently.

Sure enough, as he expected, Hisoka floored the man with a single punch, so powerful it sent the man flying and slumping onto the ground a few feet away. Startlingly enough, Harry could sense no anger from Hisoka at all—just curiosity and delight.

Was Hisoka… having _fun_ from this? What had he walked into anyway? Hisoka's killing intent that he had first sensed seemed totally gone—the only reason Hisoka could have to fight that Harry could sense was personal interest.

He heard a high-pitched battle cry and, startled out of his thoughts, quickly returned his gaze to a new battle. Gon was, once again, attacking Hisoka. Hisoka, though, disappeared the second Gon's fishing pole approached him.

Raking his eyes across the clearing, Harry saw Hisoka standing at least ten feet behind Gon. What in the world—?

But he couldn't hesitate right now. There was not a doubt in his mind that, should Hisoka abruptly change his mood, Gon would die instantly. Raising his wand, he mouthed, "_Confringo_," sending the blasting curse straight at Hisoka.

He watched as Hisoka turned, golden eyes momentarily startled, before—to his surprise—narrowing in glee. The man disappeared again, this time appearing a few feet to the right. The curse continued on unimpeded all the way until it hit the ground, leaving behind a huge explosion and a small crater carved out of the wet marshlands. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Gon's shocked expression.

Then he saw Hisoka's body flicker, and a second later, a voice echoed from behind him, cold breath ghosting against his ear.

_"Well, well, well… Would this be Mr. Green Eyes then?" _

_A/N: Annnnnnd….. it's done. Hallelujah! I hope you enjoyed it. Please note that, while mostly canon compliant, the seventh Harry Potter book and onwards is slightly AU in this story. I'm basing the Hunter x Hunter plot off of a mixture of the anime and the manga, and the names as well. (For example, I'll probably use Kuroro as opposed to Chrollo.) _

_On a different note, I could use a beta. Any offers? Once more, thanks for reading! _


	2. Chapter 2

**Trapped in Mirrors**

Chapter 2

Entirely on instinct, Harry Apparated across the clearing with a deafening crack. His blood felt like ice in his veins, and his body was wracked with violent shivers every few seconds. The sheer amount of _terror_ he felt could only be compared to one other time—when he was facing down Voldemort.

The second he Apparated, though, he knew it was of no use. The loud noise that Apparation made would instantly give away his location. Still, he futilely scanned the clearing, skipping over the older man's unconscious body and Gon's shocked face, searching for that tell-tale flash of red hair.

"Hm… Three hundred seventy-three, isn't it?" Hisoka's wickedly amused voice sounded right next to him.

Harry jerked, taking a few stumbling steps away from the terrifying man. He felt like a mouse frozen in front of a snake as he watched Hisoka with wide eyes, too numb to react anymore.

"Ne… Why don't you show yourself?" Hisoka tilted his head to one side, eyes closed in a smile, for the time being making no move to follow.

Harry gave no sign of making any movement, perfectly still in a mixture of horror and fear.

"Oh? Should I make you, then?" Those deadly eyes slowly opened, sharpening with interest and filled with a malicious glee.

At this point, even if Harry had wanted to, he was physically incapable of moving. His muscles simply would not obey. Even his magic, usually so quick to respond to his beck and call, felt sluggish and unresponsive.

He could only watch as Hisoka took a step towards him, an ever-amused smirk plastered on the pseudo-clown's face. Unable to stand the rising tension, Harry shut his eyes tightly, completely uncontrollable fear running through him.

To his shock and eternal gratitude, a fishing rod abruptly swung at Hisoka's head. Unfortunately, Harry watched as Hisoka's body dissolved into smoke as the deadly man easily avoided the attack.

"Stay away from him!" Gon yelled, brandishing his unusual weapon in front of him. Despite the brave action, Harry could hear a slight tremble in the younger boy's voice.

"You can't even see him, and you wish to protect him? You barely even know the boy." Hisoka materialized behind Gon, that same twisted smile still on his sharp-featured face. "That look on your face though… Ah…"

"He's my friend!" Gon defended, presumably figuring out whom he was when Hisoka had said his badge number. Harry, who could finally move again as Hisoka's attention shifted to Gon, felt a rising warmth in his chest. Gon truly was one of the most pure-hearted he had ever had the good fortune to meet.

But this wasn't the time for such light-hearted thoughts. He had to think only of battle, especially against an opponent as proficient and dangerous as this one.

Once more, he raised his wand. Now that Hisoka knew where he was anyway, he had no need to cast his spells silently, and if he could say them aloud, it would give them far more power and control. "Reducto! Sectumsempra! Diffindo!"

All were spells that could kill if aimed at the right place, but Harry was not naïve enough to think that he could even _hope_ to injure Hisoka if he was not fighting to kill. However, from what he had seen of Hisoka's speed and skill, he didn't hold out much hope that any of the spells would hit. That was alright, though, at this point he was just buying time.

"Gon, _move_!" he hissed, still under his invisibility cloak.

Gon obeyed, partially because of Harry's commanding tone and partially out of personal instinct, throwing himself out of the way just as Hisoka's razor-sharp cards came flying back in retaliation. Harry ducked out of the way easily enough—years of practice as a wizard and an Auror led to an ingrained reaction to things flying at him at unbelievably fast speeds.

If he could survive a melee wizard battle without casting a single defensive spell—and not getting hit once, he might add—he could survive dodging a few cards.

Admittedly, these were cards so sharp they could cut halfway through a tree trunk… Psh. Details.

Beside him, though, he heard Gon let out a pained cry. His head snapped around to stare at the younger boy, eyes widening in horror as he took in the sight before him. Hisoka had Gon pinned by the neck to a tree with one hand.

In the moment that he was still from surprise, Hisoka lowered his head and whispered into Gon's ear, heedless of Gon's struggles and confusion. With Harry's _normal_ (and not superhuman like _some people_) hearing, he only caught a few words. "_Don't… Won't kill your friends… Passed… Become a fine Hunter." _

With that, Hisoka released the younger boy. Gon slumped down, coughing painfully, but still glaring up at Hisoka with those defiant amber-brown eyes.

The jester turned towards Harry now, who tensed in anticipation, attack spells on the tip of his tongue. "Stay away from me!" Harry snarled, vibrating with tension, temporarily pushing away the crippling fear of earlier.

Hisoka paused, eyes crinkled and lips curled in a faux-pleasant expression. "Won't you tell me your name?"

"Like _hell_," was Harry's instant and instinctive reply.

"Hmm…" Hisoka hummed noncommittally, seemingly debating out loud to himself. "What to do? You have a certain ripeness to you already—I'm sure you would be delectable to eat even now. But…" He trailed off, seeming to think of something that made him more and more visibly excited.

Harry shifted, strangely fascinated. It was like trying to look away from an accident—the 'fruit' analogy freaked him out, yes, and Hisoka only amplified the effect, but he couldn't help but listen silently.

"If I let you ripen and flourish even more… I wonder how sweet you'll taste in the end?" Hisoka's eyes gleamed, a faint blush emerging on pale tattooed cheeks as Hisoka seemed to almost go into raptures at the thought.

If it was anyone else saying this, Harry would've run away screaming and never come back. Or attempted to murder said person. Actually, he would be quite fine with either of the options when it came to Hisoka—the only difference was that he wasn't confident in his ability to actually accomplish either.

Hisoka tilted his head, narrowed golden eyes somehow managing to stare straight into Harry's own wide green. He seemed to be about to say something when a shrill beeping cut him off. Harry, unwilling to leave Gon there alone, watched as Hisoka somehow produced a walkie-talkie-cell phone-navigator-thing out of thin air.

"Hisoka, you should get back here. We're nearly at the Phase Two site," a guttural voice emerged from the device.

The red-haired 'magician' smiled in that creepy manner of his, easily replying, "Mm. I'll be there soon."

Harry had just started to relax (the man was _finally_ leaving? Thank Merlin, Morgana, and every witch and wizard in the history of mankind) when Hisoka raised his head to look at him one more time. Instantly, every muscle in his body froze up again.

"Next time, I'll be looking forward to see how much you've developed… And you'll tell me your name too, won't you, three hundred seventy-three-san? I look forward to finding out what that power of yours is." With those final words to Harry, the other man turned, bent to pick up the unconscious middle-aged guy on the floor, then turned to address Gon as well.

"You too, little boy. I'm sure you'll ripen beautifully for the picking as well." Hisoka gave a final creepy eye-smile, then turned and left, waving a hand nonchalantly as he went. "I'm sure you two can find your own ways back, yes?"

Harry watched him go, waiting for a few minutes in apprehension before finally completely relaxing. He turned to look at Gon, wondering if he should go help the boy. In Gon's rather fragile mental state (he could feel the uncertaintyfearangerhorrordespair_excitement_ through the monitoring spell), he wasn't really sure if it was a good idea to leave the kid alone.

Then again, he didn't really want to explain how he had become invisible… Lying did not come easily to him, and there was no way he would ever show anyone one of the Deathly Hallows. He had more than learned his lesson about the allure such objects held over just about everyone else.

Still… Wasn't this partially his fault? So didn't he have the responsibility to try and fix it? Harry took a hesitant step towards Gon, who was still slumped against the tree, eyes shadowed and dark, when a voice rang out.

"Gon!" Harry turned to look at the speaker. It was Blondie, who he actually really should've noticed with the tracking spell still on him. It was likely the fading adrenaline rush that made it so difficult to concentrate. The blonde boy ran over to Gon, kneeling by his side and talking in low, worried tones.

Watching the scene of the two friends, Harry smiled. They would be fine, he was sure. He could already sense Gon's emotions slowly uplifting as well.

He waited there until the two children set off, Gon saying something about how he could follow Leorio's (who was presumably the unconscious man) cologne. Then he lifted the miniature Firebolt from off his chest, undoing the shrinking spell. The weight of the broom is his hands, so familiar to him, was reassuring.

After a moment's contemplation, Harry decided it was better to just leave the Invisibility Cloak on. It wasn't like there was any downsides—he was guaranteed not to be noticed this way. Swinging a leg over the broom, he lifted off the ground, turning the broom in the direction that both Gon, Hisoka, and the blond boy had headed off in.

He followed the threads of all four tracking spells—Killua's probably led to the actual final destination, and as the other three seemed to be heading towards that direction as well, it was safe to assume that the destination point was correct.

Just to be safe, though, Harry placed his wand on the palm of his hand—still carefully levitating the whole time—and muttered, "Point me, Satotz." After a second of wild spinning, the wand settled, pointing the same way all four of the threads were leading.

Satisfied, Harry canceled the spell, slipped the Elder Wand back into its holster, and, smoothly turning the broom around with more than a decade's worth of experience, sped off—_oh my god giant bird-monster-thing. _Okay. Okay. He was fine—toward what was hopefully the destination of the Second Phase.

Harry, circling a few times over the rest of the Hunter applicants, wondered where exactly he was supposed to land. There weren't any conveniently empty spots available. If he stayed up here until the First Phase's time limit finally ran out, would he be counted as eliminated? It was a genuine possibility.

He was frowning and almost deciding to try to just maneuver through the tightly-packed trees when a short burst of killing intent interrupted him. Shocked, he narrowly avoided falling off his broom and stared downwards in an attempt to find the perpetrator. He had a _fairly_ good idea he knew who it was…

Sure enough, he met the unnaturally bright yellow eyes of a certain red-haired man, who cheerfully pointed over to a small space that was emptied just seconds ago.

Suspiciously pondering whether or not it was a trap, Harry finally decided that Hisoka probably (hopefully)wouldn't try anything with Satotz so near. Besides, while his control with a broom was phenomenal, near prodigal, it had been awhile since he had actually tried to land in a tight place. Quidditch was wonderful for training flying speed and steep dives, but not so much for the actual landing (unless said landing was a crash).

He pulled the Firebolt (no longer the newest model, but still so trusty and revered) into a smooth, angled dive downwards, landing cleanly and without fuss. After he cast a Notice-Me-Not charm and glanced around to make sure no one was looking just in case(_especially_ making sure he was obscured from Hisoka's line of vision by a large crowd of examinees), Harry shrunk his Firebolt again and smoothly pulled the Invisibility Cloak off, shoving it into his cheap, heavily spelled waist bag-thing. He contemplated taking out the jacket he had stuffed in there earlier, but decided he would probably end up taking it off again later anyway.

Harry felt emotions bombard him all of a sudden, now that the exhilaration of flying was gone. He had nearly forgotten he had left the monitoring spells open—until he needed it, he decided to close it. By leaving the links open, all he was doing was draining his magic at an alarming rate.

Harry felt a gaze on him—but not as hair-raising as Hisoka's—and looked around himself, cautious. To his surprise, it was Satotz who was watching him, curiosity in his eyes. Harry just smiled, trying to look as innocent and childish as he could. 'Think Gon-like,' he told himself.

Satotz watched for a few seconds longer before he turned away, addressing the crowd, who all turned to watch the examiner. "Excellent work, everyone. Phase Two of the Exam will commence here, at the Biska Forest Park. So, I shall now take my leave. Best of luck to all of you." With those final words, the eccentric, mustached man took off in that strange gait that Harry had tried (and failed) to copy earlier.

So the First Phase was over? Thank heavens. With the combination of _way_ too much running and certain unfortunate encounters with certain unfortunate people, Harry was glad to see it done with. Now, only… Actually, Harry didn't even know how many Phases were left. That… could be a problem. If he had to suffer through fifteen more of these, Harry was pretty sure he'd just drop out. Or die. Preferably the first over the second.

Not long after Satotz had disappeared down the road from which everyone else had, presumably, come from, an ominous, thundering growling noise was heard. What in the world was that? Harry looked towards the two enormous gates that the sound appeared to be coming from behind.

A monster? Something that sounded like that would probably be even more troublesome than a dragon… And those were annoying—and life-threatening—enough, even when his goal hadn't been to defeat the creature, just steal an egg.

The gate was opening, he noticed, turning his attention onto the two doors. Every other person there also did the same, each eying the entrance carefully, muscles tensed and ready for anything.

Straining his eyesight, Harry saw… what looked like over a hundred cooking stations, if he was seeing correctly. In the distance, there was a picturesque mansion. There looked like there was one enormous person in front of the building.

As the Hunter candidates filed in and approached the person, Harry realized that there were actually two people, a huge pale-skinned man with an equally large belly (who he had seen) and a slender woman with her hair up in five mint green pigtails (who had been camoflauged by the first person) sitting in front of the first man on a couch.

The woman smiled as they got closer, grass green eyes sparkling, introducing herself. "Hello. I'm Menchi, the Second Phase examiner."

"And I'm Buhara, the other examiner," the man behind her continued, smiling amiably at them all.

Suddenly, that same thunderous rumbling rang out. Everyone looked around, confused. "W-what was that sound?" Harry heard one applicant ask nervously. There was no answer.

Menchi, though, tilted her head back to look up at Buhara, smiled and said, "You're hungry, ne, Buhara?"

The enormous man nodded, responding, "I'm starving."

Harry just stared for a long moment, uncomprehending. That noise, which rivaled the noises of dragons, was the sound of this man's… stomach rumbling? Wow. Just, wow.

The woman stood up, grinning cheerfully, and announced, "There you have it. The Second Phase will involve…" There was a tense silence as every person in the park hung onto the woman's every word, "…Cooking!" She revealed, looking extremely excited.

The Hunter contestants, however, did not react the same way. At all. "C-cooking?" "We're here to take the Hunter Exam, not be chefs!" "What the hell is this?"

Menchi seemed unfazed by the less than enthusiastic responses she had received. "That's right. Your task for the Second Phase is to prepare a dish that will suit both of our palates."

A rather heavy-built man with hair pulled back in a ponytail objected, "Who cares about cooking? I want to be a Hunter!"

Harry could actually _see_ Menchi's mood slowly souring. It was frighteningly reminiscent of Hermione's slow, simmering anger that built up until it exploded like a volcano, obliterating anything in her path. He didn't really want to see this particular woman's anger 'explode' either, so he silently willed the obviously suicidal man to _shut up_.

Menchi coughed in her fist, and ignored the man's comment, though Harry could see the irritation tightening in her green eyes. She beckoned to Buhara to start, taking a step back.

"First, you'll start by satisfying me!" Buhara announced pleasantly, a normal (not super creepy a lá Hisoka-style) smile on his rather kindly face.

Menchi finished up this time. "Then, those who qualified will have to serve me! You will qualify for the Third Phase if you hear, 'It's good,' from both of us. The phase will be over when we're both full."

Harry frowned, considering that. It had been a very long time since he had last cooked—sure, he had experience cooking for the Dursleys, but the second he had gotten away from them, he had chosen to cook as little as possible. Being forced to make food for someone (burning yourself on bacon grease every morning was _not pleasant_) kind of ruined the whole experience of cooking for him. He was still fairly confident _something_ would have been retained even over the years, so hopefully he wouldn't completely bomb this section.

Finding out that he had dealt with Hisoka for no reason at all would be exceedingly unpleasant.

"For me, it will be… Roast Pork! That's what I like best!" Buhara told them, eyes sparkling and drool dripping out of the corner of his mouth. "I don't care what kind of pig it is, as long as it's found in the Biska Forest!"

The second the Hunter applicants heard that, there was a stampede towards the forest. Harry followed near the back so he wouldn't get trampled, trying to remember if he had ever made anything similar to roast pork.

He thought he made roast pork chops once, for Uncle Vernon's business dinner. Aunt Petunia had carefully monitored him, criticizing his every movement, so he remembered the short instructions fairly clearly. It should be simple enough to replicate it, especially as the dish itself wasn't so hard.

Harry paused at the edge of the forest, letting the rest of the crowd rush past him into the woods. Pulling out his wand, he murmured, "Point me, pigs."

His wand swung in one direction, then another, then another, swinging mainly between the three. So there should be pigs in all those directions, then. Harry randomly chose one, hoping his good luck would pull through (surely his bad luck in touching the Veil was enough to cause him to have good luck for a long while?).

Trooping the forest, keeping his eyes open and scanning the forest floor for any sign of pink, Harry nearly walked right into a wall of bright pink flesh. Slowly, he raised his eyes, meeting the beady black eyes of a _freaking Hagrid-sized pig_. Possibly larger, even. He didn't think it was _possible_ for pigs to get that big. Then again… this was the world with the freaky mutated animals. Anything was possible, apparently.

"Good piggy…?" he tried, backing up slowly. The pig snorted through its abnormally large and flat snout. The nose itself was bigger than the pig's entire head. Pigs were herbivorous, right? Or at least didn't eat humans?

Just as he took a step backwards, something crunched underneath his foot. Cautiously looking down, Harry froze as he saw a set of gleaming white animal bones, still wet with saliva. Slowly, he looked back at the pig, which was staring at him as if it were sizing him up, this time looking more specifically at the mouth. Sure enough, cleanly licked bones hung messily out of the mouth.

Right. Unnaturally huge, enormous-snouted, carnivorous pigs that may or may not have a liking for wizard. Totally normal. It was still just a pig, wasn't it?

Suddenly, the beast let out a large shriek-snort, lowering its head so the snout pointed directly at him and charging. "Stupefy!" Harry yelled, sending a streak of red light at the pig. The light of the stunner literally just bounced off of the pig's snout.

"Bloody hell!" he yelped as he just barely dove out of the way of the pig's charge. What the heck was that? He didn't think he'd ever seen that particular spell just _bounce_ off.

"Stupefy! Stupefy!" he tried again, aiming two more at the pig, who had wheeled around and was coming back at him. The first one once again hit the snout and ricocheted off. The second one, however, went above the snout and hit the pig in the middle of its forehead.

The large animal reeled backwards, falling over with another one of its strange screeching noises. Harry blinked, staring suspiciously at the pig. Was it just the snout that apparently had the power to reflect stunners, then? Was it really so easy? Or was the stupid thing just playing dead? One of the hooves twitched a little, and Harry abruptly decided it was always better to be safe than sorry.

"Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy!" he called out, sending four consecutive stunners all smack dab into the pig's forehead. The animal went completely still, unconscious. After a few more seconds of watching it for any suspicious movements, Harry slowly approached the massive pig, picking up a nearby stick and poking it a few times. There was no reaction.

Satisfied, Harry muttered, "Wingardium leviosa," aloud, levitating the pig up and beginning the long trek back to the cooking stations that he had seen earlier.

Right when he was about to leave the edge of the forest and enter the gates, a huge rush of people all carrying pigs about twenty times bigger than themselves over their heads charged past him, all heading straight for the stations. Harry stared, struck dumb for a few seconds, before sidling in after all of them, heading to a cooking station in the back corner.

He started off the same way as everyone else, putting the pig out of its misery before sticking it onto a spit and roasting it over a fire. He took out a chopping board as well, however, and prepared a few knives that looked fit for cutting meat.

After he deemed the pig fairly well cooked, he quickly took the roasted meat off the spit, eying the front of the area warily. There were already some people bringing their pigs up to Buhara, though theirs were simply whole roast pigs. Buhara still approved them, though, so Harry briefly wondered if it was even worth the effort of going that extra mile.

But no, Harry wouldn't take the risk of failing now. Besides, he was only planning on making some small adjustments. He carefully removed the bones before slicing the meat into thin, savory cutlets, making sure to choose those that looked best done. Looking around the area, he took a few sauces that he dimly recalled eating meat with and poured a different sauce in a separate saucer. He also peeled apart some lettuce and grabbed some cherry tomatoes to arrange around the meat.

Finally, he carefully moved the meat onto a large platter, the thin pieces circling outwards prettily, edged with fresh lettuce and small but ripe tomatoes. The saucers containing the sauces were on the side, along with a pair of chopsticks—Harry had felt it would be easier to pick up meat and dip it into sauce with chopsticks, as compared to forks.

Hesitantly, Harry made his way up to the two examiners. Buhara looked like he was in heaven, with piles of picked clean bones surrounding him. Menchi, by comparison, looked rather sour and annoyed.

At the sight of him, her expression only got worse. "What? Another lazy wanna-be Hunter coming up here thinking cooking's useless and simple?"

Feeling slightly annoyed at the insult—she hadn't even looked at the dish!—Harry offered out his platter to Buhara. As the large man and the slender woman both turned to look, Harry reveled in the surprised look that both showed on their faces. Menchi turned towards him, a new assessing look on her face. 'Yeah,' Harry thought vindictively, 'that'll teach you to judge me.'

Buhara picked up the chopsticks, which looked ridiculously frail in his large hands, but he surprisingly delicately snatched up a piece of the meat, examining the sauces and choosing a light brown one to dip it in. Upon tasting it, he broke into a large smile. "It's good!"

Harry sighed in relief. Though he had put a lot more effort in, compared to the other contestants, at any rate, he had still been nervous.

Menchi had materialized her own chopsticks out of thin air, choosing a piece as well and dipping it into a black sauce with small seeds floating in it. "Hm… The meat is a little overdone on the outside and underdone on the inside, and these sauces aren't quite right with roast pork. The lettuce and cherry tomatoes were a good touch, but not skillfully done enough. There are quite a few other side dishes that would've been better. Still, nice effort!"

Harry smiled at the older woman. She clearly loved food and cooking, and as long as she wasn't the one judging him right now, it didn't really matter what she said about this particular dish. He was vaguely concerned for whatever dish _she_ decided to choose, though… He nodded to them, turning around to head back to his cooking station to wait for the next part to begin.

It didn't take long. Not even ten minutes after Harry had gone up, he heard, "Ah… I'm full!" from Buhara, who, true enough, looked extremely satisfied. Menchi, right on cue, took up a mallet and slammed it against a gong.

"It's over!" she announced. Everyone just stared at the massive pile of bones besides the large man. Seventy people had passed—_seventy whole giant pigs_, all eaten by one man. 'So scary…' Harry thought to himself. 'How is that even possible? Wouldn't he die from over-eating?'

"Seventy contestants pass!" Menchi called out. "Now it's my turn! I'm warning you, it won't be as easy with me. I'm very cautious about taste! For Phase Two, Second Round, my order is… sushi!"

Harry blinked in thought. Sushi? He had heard of it, of course—that one dish with the raw fish from Japan, if he wasn't mistaken. But what sort of sushi? He had heard of roll-shaped sushi with seaweed on the outside and rice on the inside, with fish and a ton of other random stuff inside. But there was also a kind where the rice was on the outside instead, wasn't there? And then there was one that was just molded rice with a thin slice of fish on top of it, if he wasn't mistaken. Which one was he supposed to make?

Furthermore, how exactly did one make sushi? The Dursleys had never wanted it—they thought that eating raw fish was 'unnatural' and that most obviously foreign food was disgusting and strange. Harry himself had only tasted sushi once that he could remember, and had promptly decided he despised it. Raw stuff=not for him.

Harry glanced around at the other Hunter applicants, hoping to find some clues from them. To his surprise, though, everyone looked completely confused. Wasn't sushi fairly well known? It was perfectly clear to him, though, that apparently _none_ of them had any idea what sushi even was… except for one.

He zoned in on a bald man wearing black armor with a smug expression. Just from the look on his face, Harry could instantly tell that guy knew what sushi was. However, it was just as obvious to him that there was no way that Harry would go up to him and just ask. The bald man was simply way too loud and noticeable for his current purposes.

Harry decided to go look at the ingredients stocked in the cooking area for ideas. Opening all the cabinets, he searched for any of the dry seaweed that he had seen used in the rolled type of sushi. However, wherever he looked, he still couldn't find any. So it couldn't be the sushi rolls, then. The fish-on-rice thing it was. Harry grabbed a bottle labeled 'Sushi Vinegar' when he found it. He would be a fool not to use anything with 'sushi' written on it.

Glancing up, he blinked in surprise as he realized the area was completely empty except for the examiners. "Hey! Three hundred seventy-three! Aren't you going to get going?" Menchi called out. "The others are long gone!"

"Yes, I'm going right now," Harry replied, dipping his head to them and heading out to the forest again. "Point me, fish." Ah… The Point-Me Spell was so, so convenient. He loved magic.

The spell led him to a river, where he saw many other contestants frantically grabbing for fish. Well, they figured that to make sushi, fish was needed, evidently. He retreated behind a large rock on the riverbank for cover, a little bit farther from the other contestants, before muttering, "Accio fish!" Instantly, five fish came flying out of the water to land, flopping, at his feet.

Harry slid his wand back up his sleeve, picking up the fish and heading back. When he returned, there were a few others already there, the bald ninja, Killua, Gon, Hisoka, the blond boy, and the middle-aged man (Leon? Lio? Something like that) amongst them. Harry moved back to his own cooking station, hesitating over the many assorted knives for a second.

From what he knew of cooking, there was _always_ a specific knife one should use. Unfortunately, he had no idea which one this time. Shrugging, he randomly selected a knife similar to a butcher knife but far thinner and sharper. Turning back to his fish (some of which were very interestingly shaped), Harry eyed each one. Some of these he had no idea how he was expected to cut it.

He chose a fairly normal fish fist, carefully removing the delicate bones, before slicing the fish into moderately thick, somewhat sushi-like pieces. Then he took the rice—fresh and steaming, made in a provided rice cooker—and started attempting to shape it. It was harder than it looked—the rice was hot and sticky and tiny grains got everywhere. Eventually, he finally created a few oval-ish rice sphere-things. Then he took each fish strip and placed it on top of the rice.

Taking a step back, he looked at his creation. It looked… Vaguely edible, he supposed? Not nearly like the professionally made sushi at that one restaurant he had eaten at, but there was a chance it could pass Menchi's strict evaluation.

He was about to leave when he remembered Menchi's approval of his effort with the sauces. Harry opened a cabinet, scanning the insides. Soy sauce was a classic, wasn't it? And surely the sushi vinegar was to be eaten with the sushi? There was this green paste thing that he vaguely remembered being placed along sushi as well.

He separated the sauces and the green paste in saucers and arranged them around the platter similarly to how he had last time. Then he took the sort of sushi looking things he had created and arranged them as well as he could on the large plate.

A while ago, he had begun hearing the screams of, "REJECTED! Fail! This sucks! Are you even trying?" coming from Menchi at the front of the large yard. Harry mustered his courage and took his own platter up to Menchi, cautiously offering it for her appraisal.

Critical green eyes instantly latched onto the plate. "Hm… The general shape is alright, if not a little crude. The rice is over-kneaded. This—," at the word this, Menchi pointed at the sushi vinegar, "—is _not_ supposed to be eaten with sushi like that. The soy sauce and wasabi are acceptable, though I'm disappointed you didn't experiment further."

After that quick assessment, Menchi finally picked up a piece, delicately dabbed it into the soy sauce and the wasabi, then tasted it. After a few thoughtful bites, she wrinkled her nose. "The rice is far too sticky—you added too much water when making it. You somehow managed to choose the least delectable parts of that particular fish for sushi, and the flavor doesn't go with the soy sauce and wasabi at all. Did you even taste it?"

Harry knew that his guilty expression gave him away, but he shook his head anyway.

She eyed him for a second, then shooed him away. "Not bad, but not good enough. Try harder next time."

He sighed, but dutifully returned to his work station. As he passed them, people started murmuring excitedly, having, unfortunately, picked up on how to make it from him and that other bald-haired ninja, who had apparently accidently blurted out the recipe.

He tried to follow her instructions, but though he succeeded in making a better version, right before he went up, Menchi finally snapped. "NO! You all suck!" With a huff, the green-haired woman flopped back into her seat. "I'm not hungry anymore," she announced, crossing her legs. "The number of contestants who passed the Second Phase: zero!" Harry stared, shocked, a sinking feeling beginning in his chest.

The shock had started to wear off for all the applicants, and anger was beginning to set in. "No way…" "This sucks!" "So unfair… It can't be over like this!"

The same heavy-set man—number two hundred fifty five, Harry observed—from the beginning of the Second Phase abruptly smashed one of the cooking stations to smithereens. "I won't accept this!" he snarled. "If you think I'm just gonna obediently go home after something like this, you've got another thing coming to you!"

Turning to face Menchi, who was sitting on her couch like it was a throne, an unimpressed expression written clear across her face, he yelled, "I want to become a Black List Hunter! Not some stupid Gourmet Hunter!" Harry heard agreeing murmurs from behind number two hundred fifty five, and frowned as he saw a hint of annoyance enter Menchi's eyes.

"Too bad. Better luck next year," was all she said, carelessly waving him off.

The man's face grew bright red in fury—vaguely reminiscent of Uncle Vernon, actually—and he charged at the slender woman, raising a fist angrily. "_Are you mocking me_?!"

Right before he reached Menchi, though, Buhara reached over from behind the green-haired woman and slapped the heavy-set man across the face so hard that he literally flew over the entire crowd's heads and slammed brutally into one of the pillars next to gate, hitting the unforgiving stone with a sickening crack, before falling to the ground with a dull thud.

"…You didn't need to do that, Buhara," Menchi said softly, with a hint of menace underneath her quiet words.

"But if I didn't, you would've killed him, wouldn't you?" Buhara replied, normally jovial face solemn and grim.

Menchi shrugged as she stood up, revealing three heavy cutting knives clenched between her fingers in each of her hands. "Maybe… Black List Hunter? Don't make me laugh. It isn't being defeated by a 'lowly Gourmet Hunter' that means you'll never make it, it's your own lack of skill."

Casually tossing and catching all six knives as she talked, Menchi demonstrated a terrifying control and skill with her abilities. "The type of Hunter you want to be has nothing to do with this. No matter what, a Hunter always needs to be able to fight to a perfect degree. We, as Gourmet Hunters, often venture into dangerous beasts' and monsters' dens in the search of ingredients, and in the case of poachers, must be able to stop them!"

Slashing all three knives in her right hand to one side in order to accent her point, Menchi glared at the crowd and vehemently stated, "I was testing your innovation, adjustability, creativity, and ability to take risks! Based on these qualities, _all of you failed_!"

Silence reigned for a few minutes as the crowd of recently failed Hunter applicants seemed equal parts chagrined and still furious. Tensions remained high as Menchi glowered at them all.

Suddenly, a cheery voice cut through the tense atmosphere like a hot knife through butter. "Maa maa, Menchi—even if that's one explanation, isn't this still too severe?"

Harry looked up, startled, to see the bizarre sight of a huge shark-themed blimp descending, two bold black X's embossed on the side. To his shock, he saw a tiny figure jump out from above without so much as a rope. "Ah! Watch out!" he called out instinctively, fingers scrabbling for his wand to cast a levitation charm.

"Isn't that the Hunter's Confederation symbol? Could it be the Examination Committee?" he heard at his side. Hearing that, he paused. If this person was really someone from the Examination Committee, he or she surely wouldn't jump out of a blimp without complete confidence that they could survive, right?

Sure enough, the figure landed effortlessly. Harry's eyes widened when he realized that the figure was an old man, mostly bald and bearded, with a mischievous cast to his aged face. He was dressed in a casual top and loose pants, wearing strange wooden clog-like shoes.

"Netero-san, President of the Committee," Menchi said unusually meekly, bowing her head.

"I didn't want to show myself until later, but it seems I must to solve this problem. Menchi… do you honestly believe that all of these candidates failed based on the criteria you have pointed out?" The old man pierced Menchi with a sharp gaze. Harry noted in surprise how almost _cowed_ Menchi looked under Netero's gaze.

"…No, President. I lost my temper when some of them insulted Gourmet Hunters and cooking. I did not grade them fairly," Menchi admitted quietly.

"So do you understand why you failed your duty as a jury member?" Netero pressed.

Menchi sighed, closing her eyes. "Yes, Netero-san. I did not evaluate them fairly." After a moment's consideration, she opened her eyes, bowing forward slightly. "I resign from my position as an examiner. Please do not include this Phase as valid."

Harry watched as Netero's eyes gleamed with a devious plan, but the aged man's face turned solemn. "But it will be difficult to find a new examiner on such short notice…"

The green-haired woman swallowed, looking pained. "I apologize for the inconvenience."

Netero faked a moment of indecision, before grinning. "I know! The Phase itself was not the issue, but your menu was a little bit too difficult. Why don't you keep your position but redo the exam with a different course? And you will have to participate as well, to make it easier for the contestants to accept."

Menchi looked up, a mixture of hope and excitement in her eyes. "Of course, President! I know just the thing… Could you take us to Mt. Split-in-Half?"

Netero instantly agreed, and so quickly Harry could barely process it, he and all the other applicants were hustled into the blimp and they were speeding away from the forest towards what would, apparently, become their next testing site.

Harry gazed blankly down into the canyon, the wind howling and trying to tug him into the deep ravine. He couldn't even see the bottom. Now Harry was by no means at all scared of heights—as a quite skilled Seeker, there was no way he could be, but with the fierce wind blowing, if he tried to fly in there he would instantly be smashed against the walls.

"Right… Here we go!" Menchi cheerfully leaped off the side of the canyon. Harry, startled, could only watch as she plummeted down, before catching onto a strand of a thick white web. Every Hunter applicant watched in apprehension as she simply hung there for a few seconds before letting go, grabbing an egg on the white webs below her as she fell into the fog.

"Is she… dead?" someone asked hesitantly, barely concealed horror in his voice, after a few seconds of silence. Harry swallowed, looking down into the canyon.

"No!" Gon exclaimed from somewhere nearby, sounding excited. "Look!"

Harry's eyes widened as he saw Menchi come flying back up, clutching the egg in both hands and an exhilarated grin on her face. She landed neatly and easily on the edge of the canyon, holding up her prize in one hand.

"This is the egg of an Eagle-Spider. They build their webs inside canyons to protect them from predators. Their eggs are considered delicious delicacies! Your task for the Second Phase is to take an egg and boil it," she explained cheerfully.

Harry thought about that for a second, trying to comprehend it, then looked back down into the abyss. That was… Well.

"That's ridiculous! Who would jump off a cliff like that?" Number two hundred fifty-five yelled, incredulous.

Right on cue, Harry heard Killua say, "That's cool!"

Gon agreed, adding, "This is more like I thought it would be like!" And with no farther comment, the two jumped right off into the canyon, a crowd of examinees soon following. Harry stayed at the top, still internally debating what would be the best move.

He _could_ go and jump in with the rest of the potential Hunters, but considering he had no way of knowing for certain if he could correctly ride that updraft back up, he didn't exactly want to risk it. He could also use his Firebolt, but if that howling wind started up again, he could a) get caught in one of those webs or b)get smashed against the wall. Neither sounded particularly appealing.

Harry frowned, wondering what to do, even as he watched a few candidates drop only to plummet straight to the bottom, screaming all the while. Menchi came up to him, a twin frown on her own face.

"You aren't going to go down?" she asked, clearly unhappy.

Harry shook his head, replying, "Don't worry, I'll definitely get an egg. I'm just deciding how to do it."

Menchi looked confused, but let it go, her attention captured as Gon yelled, "Now!", letting go of the spider web strand he was clinging on to. The remaining applicants also hanging on the white strands all followed his example. They dropped into the ravine, each grabbing an egg, and there was only silence for a few moments.

Harry was beginning to think that they'd all died when a sudden wind come surging upward, propelling all of them back up, triumphant grins plastered on each and every man or woman's face.

He waited until all of them were on the ground before stepping closer to the edge, leaning over and peering down once more. "Wingardium leviosa!" he murmured, using wandless magic—he still didn't want to show the Elder Wand, especially as it would be far too easy of a target to snap.

A bundle of the eggs trembled, before ripping themselves off of the strand and slowly making its way up to him. Harry smiled in satisfaction as they gently landed in his outstretched hand. He turned to Menchi, presenting the eggs, before realizing something and frowning. "I'm sorry, but I had to get the whole bunch at a time."

She stared in shock, mouth opening and closing a few times, a clear question in her eyes, before she rolled her eyes in exasperation. "It's fine! Come over here and boil your eggs with the rest of them."

Harry dipped his head in agreement, following over and just placing the entire bundle in the pot. He took a step back, waiting for them to finish cooking, when he was ambushed by a crowd of kids.

"Wow! Harry, how'd you do that?" Gon asked, practically bouncing in place. "I didn't even see you go down!"

Harry floundered for a response, unsure of what to say, before finally settling with, "I just improvised, that's all."

"Eh…" Gon didn't look satisfied, but turned to Killua instead and questioned, "Did you see anything?"

The white-haired boy shook his head, but directed a question to Harry. "Did you say something like winadim levosi or something? You were muttering some weird stuff over there." His bright blue eyes sharpened, intensely fixed on Harry's own green eyes.

Harry had already realized that the brat had impossible hearing, but he could've _sworn_ that when he was saying that particular spell, Killua had been bouncing around in excitement with Gon. How on earth could he hear something when he himself was screaming at the top of his lungs?

He realized Killua was starting to look annoyed, and hastily answered, "No, maybe you heard wrong?" He wasn't lying, in a way—he hadn't said 'winadim levosi' (and Hermione would've thrown a fit at the brutalized pronunciation), he had said 'wingardium leviosa'.

Ah, the beauty of bending the truth.

Harry looked at the blond boy and the older-looking man besides the two, deciding that this was as good a time as any to at least learn the two's names. After all, he was kind of stalking one of them and had watched the other get humiliatingly beat down. It would be strange not to know their name's after all of that. And besides, it was getting annoying calling them 'the blond boy' and 'the middle-aged man' all the time. He knew the man's name was L-something, but he had forgotten the rest.

"Hello, I'm Harry. What's your name?" he asked, trying to make it just sound like a polite introduction.

The blond boy eyed him rather suspiciously for a second, before replying in a surprisingly solemn and guarded voice, "Call me Kurapika."

The man next to him replied much more lightly, grinning and exclaiming, "And I'm Leorio!"

Harry nodded, opening his mouth to say more when Menchi's voice interrupted him. "The Second Phase is now over! Forty-two contestants will move on to the Third Phase. Those who have advanced, please move into the blimp!"

Harry turned to the four, smiling amiably one more time. "It was nice to meet you, Kurapika and Leorio. And it was nice to see you again, Killua, Gon!" With that said, he moved hastily past them and headed into the blimp, eternally grateful that Gon had said nothing about the Hisoka Incident (or so he had now dubbed it).

They were all dropped off on top of an extremely tall, perfectly smooth building about eleven hours later, Harry feeling perfectly refreshed and his magic replenished after a good night's sleep. No explanation was given to them except for a shout of, "You have to get to the bottom of Trick's Tower in seventy-two hours to pass the Third Phase! Good luck!" With those instructions given, the blimp turned and left.

Rather annoyed at the lack of a better explanation, Harry wandered around the top of it mindlessly for a while, unsure of what he was supposed to be doing. After somebody had been gruesomely eaten by multiple hideous huge baby-bird-hybrids trying to climb down the sides, Harry had decided that going down on his Firebolt probably wasn't the best idea. There had to be some way through the tower.

It was somewhere during his fifth revolution of the cylindrical tower's circular top that he noticed people were disappearing. There were considerably less people there now compared to how many had been there at the beginning.

Catching sight of someone in the distance dropping through a trapdoor, Harry decided to go investigate, taking a step forwards in that direction… before promptly plummeting through a trapdoor of his own with an embarrassingly loud shriek.

"Oh Merlin, that scared me," he said aloud, voice muffled, sprawled face-down on the ground where he had landed. He had _not_ been expecting that at all.

He was still lying on the ground, bemoaning the tragedy that was his life, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Instantly grabbing his wand, Harry rolled over, ready to attack by any means necessary, before freezing in surprised terror.

He was not ashamed to say that he screamed like a little girl at the sight of the strange face filled with pins literally _two centimeters_ from his own face.

_A/N: I'm pretty surprised I actually got this out so quickly… I'm not quite as satisfied with this chapter, though. I'm sorry that the confrontation with Hisoka didn't have much fighting, but at this point, I'm really certain that if Harry honestly tried to fight Hisoka, he would be killed instantly and brutally. _

_ As I was rereading the Hunter x Hunter manga, I just realized that it could be exceedingly complicated trying to fit Harry into all of this later… Yeah… _

_ Oh yes, before I forget, I don't own Harry Potter or Hunter x Hunter. (I forgot to put a disclaimer in the first chapter.) Thanks to you all for the wonderful support! _


	3. Chapter 3

**Trapped in Mirrors**

Chapter Three

Harry had actually been having a pretty good day—sure, he had met a rather… _unusual_… man, but said man, called Gitturackur (a rather abnormal name, in his opinion, but it wasn't like he hadn't seen stranger) was, while eccentric, quite quiet, presumably somewhat agreeable, and overall not the worst person in the world to be stuck with for a teamwork-centered Phase.

After that terrifying initial introduction, the two had been traveling through the maze-like halls, slowly battling their way through animals, traps, and human attackers alike. They agreed together which ways to go, as Harry considered himself a fairly easy-going and adaptable person, and as Gitturackur didn't have a problem with it (or so he assumed, as he couldn't really tell much of _anything _on Gitturackur's face).

But, anyway, everything had been going perfectly well, all things considered—no extreme life-risking situations, no evil dark lords, no Hisoka, nothing terribly life risking, when they had been ambushed by a group of over fifty cloaked attackers.

Still, he could deal with that—he had been doing _fine_, thank you very much… and then, with his bad luck coming into play once more, this had happened.

"Hm… What to do with you?" The strange, unfamiliar young man in front of him tilted his head, long black hair cascading elegantly to one side.

"Who the hell are you?" Harry snarled, baring his teeth in a parody of a grin and brandishing his wand in front of him. "What did you do with Gitturackur?"

The man widened unnaturally large pitch-black eyes, somehow managing to project a sense of innocence even as the emotionless expression on his pale face never changed. "I didn't do anything to him though."

Harry didn't move from his tensed position. He was sure his disbelief was spread all over his face. It was perfectly understandable—one second he had been engaged in furious battle with cloaked figures, spells and attacks flying, the next, every attacker was lying moaning on the floor, clearly out of commission. And, most importantly, his temporary partner, grayish skin, blue mohawk, severely annoying clicking and all was completely and utterly gone, replaced by this black-haired man.

"You don't get it? I _am_ Gitturackur," the man explained, spreading both hands carelessly out in front of him. "I didn't want to show my true self, actually… But I had to in order to save you. It's a pity I couldn't just let you die—it would be easier, as now I'll have to kill you anyway. Unfortunately, you have to be alive in order for me to pass the Third Phase…" The man continued talking to himself, seemingly contemplating what to do next.

Harry stared, eyes wide in shock, mouth slightly open in uncertainty. Now that he actually _looked_, the clothing was the same as Gitturackur's had been, but the attitude was completely different! While both had their own auras of creepiness, this one actually _spoke_ and moved without the irritating clacking he'd gotten so used to.

Rather more important than that, though, was the casual death threats the man was spewing off. Harry liked to think he could take care of himself, but since the very beginning of this Phase, even when it was with 'Gitturackur', he had felt a constant prickling of unease.

He hadn't been able to pinpoint it until now. The man's aura was almost _suppressed _which is why he hadn't taken notice—but it seemed that with the change in appearance, the not-magic aura was now released slightly from the tight constraints. Suddenly, he could clearly sense the how _chilling_ and almost shadowy and _slimy _the aura felt. It made him want to puke.

What could he do? If this man had been able to hide so thoroughly for the full seven hours they had been stuck in this Tower so far, only exposing himself now, Harry knew that he had _no idea_ what the long-haired man was actually capable of.

If the man decided to try and kill him, Harry didn't really know if he could manage to survive.

"I'll just wait until the next Phase to kill you, then! I'm sure there'll be plenty of opportunities. For now, though… The rules never said you had to be in control of yourself when you pass," the man concluded rather cheerfully, though the detached expression on his face never wavered.

Harry barely had time to widen his eyes before he felt a sharp stabbing sensation at his forehead. His wand clattered uselessly to the floor as his grip involuntarily slackened.

And then he fell into mist.

…

Illumi stepped through the door, his dark-haired "teammate" trailing behind, green eyes vacant. His appearance was back to 'Gitturackur', the needles all once more stuck in his face.

The exam had been almost laughably easy once he no longer had to keep up his charade. Illumi had single-handedly slaughtered every enemy that had come across his path without so much as breaking a sweat. It was sad how simple it was, really.

Right on cue, an announcement rang out. "Second to finish the Third Phase, number three hundred one, Gitturackur. Third to finish, number three hundred seventy-three, Harry. Total time, twelve hours and two minutes."

Illumi turned his head, joints creaking and cracking under the strain of the needles, to look at the only other occupant of the room. "I figured you'd already passed."

To his mild surprise, Hisoka was already looking in his direction—or more specifically, toward the slight figure behind him, who was staring blankly ahead without emotion. Hisoka's bright yellow eyes were wide with an unreadable expression.

Illumi tilted his head to one side. "Is something wrong?"

After a moment, the red-haired man's expression slowly relaxed. "How… _unexpected_. What did you do to him?"

"I turned him into one of my Needlemen," Illumi explained nonchalantly. "Our route was teamwork-based and so he had to stay alive. It became too difficult to keep him alive when he could move under his own violation, so I took away his will. I'll just kill him during the next Phase."

Hisoka simply hummed noncommittally, turning his attention back to a card deck he had summoned out of mid-air.

Illumi, feeling rather curious, was about to question Hisoka further on the man's strange behavior, when he was cut off by the rumbling of a door opening.

Slowly turning back around, movements forcedly jerky, he watched as the bald ninja came jumping in. "YEAH! I'm first!"

"Hanzo, number two hundred seventy-four, the fourth to pass. Total time, twelve hours and three minutes," the intercom promptly interrupted.

"No way! I can't believe this. Not even third, _fourth_!" the bald man drooped, looking almost comically depressed.

Illumi turned away, disinterested in the other man's theatrics. With the shuddering movements of his changed body, he turned and slowly sat down against the wall a few doors down from Hisoka. He mentally ordered his green-eyed "partner" to sit on the other side.

The boy turned to follow the command, moving jerkily to the other side—and then he froze in the middle of the floor, entire body trembling for a long moment. Frowning internally (his Gitturackur persona's face didn't exactly allow for anything other than a smile, and his regular body wouldn't frown anyway), Illumi reiterated his command, pushing more of his Nen into it.

There was a long pause as the boy stood stock-still, almost shaking with tremors—and then finally, the boy continued on his trek across the floor, slumping down against the wall on the far side with his head down.

That… had never happened before.

…

An immeasurable amount of time had passed before Harry finally managed to break out of the strange mental prison he had been trapped in. To him, it had felt like daysweeks_months_ had passed by—but he had no idea how long he had actually been stuck in his own mind.

Thankfully, he had the foresight not to instantly give away the fact that he had shaken off the black-haired man's spell. Instead, he remained slumped against the wall, head down and staring fixedly at a tile in front of him, disoriented and confused, not even daring to glance around himself.

He… had no idea where he was.

Harry was almost one hundred percent certain that the man—Gitturackur? If they were one and the same, then would the man's name still be Gitturackur?—had trapped him in his own mind. The feeling had been similar to that of the Imperius Curse, distant commands that _must be followed _and all, only ten times stronger.

It was only through sheer force of will and the buffer that his magic had provided against the relentlessly invading foreign energy that had ultimately allowed him to escape with his mind and will intact.

Now, though, he felt _exhausted_. He needed to sleep and let his magic replenish. He felt completely drained, mind, body, and spirit.

Still, even though he knew this, Harry struggled to stay awake. He needed to figure out where he was and what time it was—had the Third Phase concluded already? Was he still in Trick Tower?

Harry didn't dare look around, though—if Gitturackur was still here, he had no doubts that the man would instantly be able to put him back into his 'trance', and he really didn't want to deal with the trouble of getting out of it once more. The first time was tiring enough, even leaving him in a state like this. Or, in the worst case scenario, the man could just outright kill him.

He could vaguely sense different auras around him. In his dubiously coherent state, he could only tell that there were more than fifteen separate auras, but he couldn't tell who was who.

Besides, even if he was in a more rested condition, he wasn't sure if he could pick out Gitturackur. The man's aura had been so tightly contained the entire time he had been with the man, so there was always the chance it would be lost under the crowd.

Harry scowled faintly to himself as he wondered what else he could do. He wasn't even sure if he had enough magic left to cast a useful spell, especially as he would have to do it silently and wandlessly…

Harry barely managed to keep himself from jerking upright in sudden realization. His wand! He'd dropped it when he got put under Gitturackur's spell, he was certain—so where was it now?

Did the other man just leave it in the Tower? Or could Gitturackur have taken it with him?

It wasn't with Harry, certainly. He couldn't feel the reassuring weight in his wand holster, and he didn't sense anything in his pockets either.

His hand twitched as he resisted the rash impulse to just jump up and go search for it, no matter the consequences. Even if the wand wasn't technically _his_, it was still _a _wand. Harry felt disturbingly weak and defenseless without that simple (or really, not so simple) stick of wood.

Even though he knew wandless magic, he wasn't arrogant enough to believe that he could get by just with that. When casting spells without a wand, he became mentally fatigued twice as quickly, and the spells themselves didn't even have as much power as a spell cast _with_ a wand would have.

In an exam like this, Harry couldn't fool himself into believing that he would so much as last a day without a wand.

What could he do? What options remained open? He couldn't observe his surroundings, his magic was too depleted to even cast a single high-power spell, his magic 'sense' was unreliable—what did he have left to do?

Harry bit his lip in frustration, clenching his fist tighter and digging his fingernails into the skin. Focus! There had to be a way out of this situation, unfavorable as it was.

Despite himself, his head spun and Harry nearly fell over, catching himself just in time. He was just… so… tired…

Abruptly, an automated voice called out, "One minute remaining," conveniently jerking Harry back awake from the brink of unconsciousness.

Distantly, he heard a rumbling noise. Chancing a peek through his bangs, he saw a door on the other side opening. They were in a circular tower, he noted in the back of his mind, before focusing intently on the figure coming through the door.

"I-I… I made it!" he saw a disheveled man cry out—and then, like a puppet with its strings cut, the man crumpled to the ground. Harry watched in horror, green eyes widening.

While he was actually looking, Harry took a quick glance around. There was Gitturackur—so he could safely assume that he _had_ finished the Third Phase after all. Continuing on in his quick scan…!

He met Hisoka's golden eyes dead on, looking straight at him. The joker was unmistakably staring him down, a mixture of confusion and gleeful interest mixed together in those terrifying eyes. Then, after a long moment of tense staring, Hisoka's eyes flickered over to Gitturackur, who was currently looking away, one elegant eyebrow arching up in clear question.

Harry quickly dropped his gaze, giving no reply, a cold sweat running down his back. He dimly noted that his hands were trembling.

Okay. So Hisoka knew that Harry wasn't stuck in a spell anymore. It wasn't the end of the world. What did it even matter? It wasn't like the red-haired jester would tell Gitturackur anyway.

…Harry wished that he could fool himself into believing that with one hundred percent certainty.

He was _sure_ that somewhere, somehow, there was a possibility that Hisoka would tell the other man, and then his life could very quickly be over.

Dangerous, unpredictable, terrifying men always, always somehow seemed to gravitate together, no matter the circumstances. It would be just his luck if the two men were childhood friends who'd known each other since birth, and then decided to grow up to become psychopaths together or something completely and totally unlucky like that.

"...number 403." Harry vaguely caught the end of the sentence from the intercom, once more risking a lightning-quick peek upwards. He caught a glimpse of bright white hair, and silently breathed a sigh of relief to himself. If Killua had gotten out, he could probably safely assume that his companions were safe as well.

After all, what sort of child would abandon one's friends?

Speaking of Killua, Gon, and company though…

He was _such_ an idiot. He still had the tracking and monitoring links placed on four different people, so he wasn't completely senseless right now.

There was only one _slight_ itty bitty problem… Harry really didn't think he had enough magic to even successfully open one link without fainting, even with his larger than average magical core.

….He was so screwed, wasn't he?

"End of time! Phase Three has now concluded. A total of twenty-five have passed this round," a crackly voice announced over the speakers. "All remaining examinees, please exit the Tower through the open door.

Right on cue, Harry heard a door slowly rumble open. Trusting his senses and keeping his head down, which was a debatably intelligent move considering his light-headedness and disorientation at the moment, he slowly shuffled behind everyone else towards the door, trying not to trip and fall flat on his face.

A short man with a spiky mohawk and glasses greeted them outside, a rather creepy smile spread on his face.

"Congratulations to you all for passing the Third Phase. There will only be two more Phases—the Fourth Phase and the Final Phase," the man continued, Harry listening carefully the whole time, trying not to miss anything even in his dazed state.

'Two more rounds left…' he thought to himself. He really, truly didn't know if he would be able to last through the Exam. Pretty much everyone left was had monstrous strength, after all (at least compared to him), and in his current state he would make an easy prey.

"The Fourth Phase will take place on Zeriku Island. Now, with formalities taken care of…" Harry heard the man clap twice.

Hesitating, after a long moment of contemplation, Harry raised his head at last, staring straight ahead with a careful blankness. He actually had no idea how he had looked in his trance-like state, under Gitturackur's spell, but he assumed it was something similar to the Imperius. The point was, there was no way he could afford not to see perfectly clearly the ground rules of the next Phase.

Out of his peripheral vision, he saw Gitturackur's disguise's bright blue mohawk and barely resisted the urge to cringe away from the tall figure. Now that he had felt it once, the man's almost shadowy aura was so much more tangible.

"What is that...?" he heard someone murmur. Harry felt a similar confusion as he stared at the small box, a slit cut into the top, held in the examiner's hands.

"A lottery?" someone else muttered, confusion in his voice. "What for?"

The short man with the mohawk just smirked, light glinting off his round glasses. "To determine the hunters and the prey, of course."

Harry blinked slowly. That… did not sound promising.

"Inside this box are twenty-five numbered cards. Pick a card in the order you arrived at the Tower's bottom."

Hisoka, rather predictably, moved first. Smooth movements, that wickedly amused smirk, and that gleam in those deadly golden eyes all formed a picture of absolute confidence. Only one thing was off—the slice into Hisoka's right shoulder, stained with blood.

That monster could actually get bleed…? There was still hope left, then.

Hisoka's long white fingers elegantly dipped into the box, drawing out a single card and looking at it. Everyone gazed intently at the jester, looking for any kind of clue. No expression showed on the red-haired man's face, though.

After a pause, Hisoka walked off, Gitturackur jerkily moving up to the box instead. Harry averted his gaze, irrationally afraid that the man would be able to tell he had broken out of his spell by his eyes alone.

When the gray-skinned man had walked back, Harry rather hesitantly walked up. He assumed he was third, as he had presumably come in right after Gitturackur, but he really had no way to be certain as he was unfortunately indisposed at the time.

Reaching one hand, still faintly trembling from fatigue, into the box, Harry just picked up the first card he touched, clenching his hand tightly around it before walking back, in the opposite direction of Gitturackur.

He could feel the man's eyes piercing into his back as if his very gaze was filled with needles.

Still, Harry kept up the charade, making sure his green eyes were vacant and almost lifeless. Moving almost robotically, Harry glanced down at his card.

Number eighty.

…Who in the world was that?

Harry mentally scanned through the crowd, searching for someone with the badge number eighty, but he couldn't find anyone.

How was he supposed to find someone (which is what he would have to do, if his suspicions were correct) if he didn't even know who they were?

Well, then again, he did have magic… So it shouldn't be too big of a problem. As long as he could actually _use_ the magic, of course, which, at the moment, he couldn't.

He held onto the card so tightly the edges dug into his fingers, the mixture of the pain and the adrenaline grounding him and keeping him from dropping in exhaustion. With the other hand, he casually slipped his own round, numbered badge into his pocket. If his assumptions were right, it would be best to do this now.

The time it took for all the other examinees to pick cards seemed to simultaneously pass in an instant and take an eternity. Both too quickly and too slowly, the Fourth Phase examiner was speaking once more. "Does everyone have a card?"

Quiet murmurs of affirmation sounded. Harry himself just stayed as still as a statue, pulse skyrocketing with all the stress.

"The number you have just picked and your personal numbers have both been recorded. Consequentially, all of you are free to do whatever you wish with the card you have picked. The participant corresponding to the card you have picked… will be your target."

"You have to grab the numbered badge given to each examinee at the beginning of the Exam. If you succeed in grabbing your target's numbered badge… Three points!

If you succeed in keeping your own badge… Another three points. Any other badge is simply one point," the bespectacled man announced, looking way too gleeful. "To reach the end of the Phase successfully, you must have a total of six points."

Harry didn't even want to think anymore. For his tired brain, this was way too complicated. He would just digest it later. At the moment, all he knew, and all he really needed to know, was that he was completely and utterly screwed if he had to fight _anyone_ right now. Aside from that, everything else was secondary.

Feeling like a zombie, Harry shuffled onto the boat along with everyone else, promptly settling into a secluded corner.

"Congratulations to you all for reaching the Fourth Round! We will be sailing two hours to Zeriku Island…" a peppy pink-haired woman began, but that was all Harry needed to hear. Two hours of sleep it was. After all, no examinee would try anything with the examiner right there in front of them, so this was probably the closest he'd get to perfectly safe sleep.

Trying to get vaguely comfortable, Harry curled up and drifted off to sleep, accompanied by the soothing rocking of the ship and the pink-haired woman's annoyingly bright voice.

What felt like only five minutes later, he was awoken as the ship came to the shore.

That was a really, really short two hours.

At least his magical core had replenished somewhat. Still not so much as even a quarter full, but enough that he could at least somewhat do something, even without his wand.

Harry felt a new wave of worry wash through him at the reminder. He really didn't know what to do… How could he just _lose_ the Elder Wand?

But, unfortunately, now was not the time for beating himself up over incredibly dumb mistakes, of which he'd made too many to count. Lining up with all the examinees, he swallowed as the realization that he had to survive yet another Phase. One would think he would be used to all the life-risking situations with the amount of stunts he'd pulled in Hogwarts and even later in his Auror career, but no. Even now he could feel the adrenaline causing his hands to shake.

"Please leave the ship in the order in which you arrived at the bottom of the Tower! Two minutes will pass between each contestant's departures! You will stay exactly one week on the island—during this time, you must earn six points. Best of luck to you all!

"Departure of the first candidate!"

Harry watched as Hisoka slowly walked out, a smirk spread all over the joker's tattooed face. Right as the man passed him, sharp golden eyes slid down to meet his own, a clear challenge in his gaze. Harry, rashly and stupidly, glared back defiantly, his nerves finally fraying to the point where he just said screw it all.

The red-haired man just looked all the more gleeful, before continuing to walk out. Harry glared at his back until even the brightness of Hisoka's hair and clothes disappeared into the greenery of the island's forests.

"Second candidate!"

Harry watched Gitturackur just as carefully, though he tried not to make it overtly obvious. Merlin knew his acting wasn't the best, so there was quite a distinct possibility that he had already been found out… in which case his best bet was to just avoid the creepy man until further notice. Even with his admittedly rather hazy experience, he had a severe hunch that Gitturackur would try to kill him.

Whatever. He'd deal with it when it came.

"Third candidate!"

Harry jerkily stepped forward, heart pounding in his chest, before his stride evened out.

He'd be okay. He knew he would be. He'd brushed with death so many times already, and he would not allow this to be the end of him. He _would_ survive this and he _would_ pass the Hunter Exam, even if he had to fight off Gitturackur and Hisoka. So help him, he would spit Death in the face one more time.

No matter what, Harry would get back home.

His nerves steeled, Harry headed into the forest before steering abruptly to the right, the opposite direction he thought he had seen both Gitturackur and Hisoka head.

He didn't think he'd even be able to walk straight soon, let alone try and fight off a creepy homicidal bipolar maniac or a completely insane joker.

Harry walked aimlessly through the forest, bright green eyes on a lookout for someplace defendable he could stay. He paused as he saw a hollow in a tree out of the corner of his eyes, barely big enough for someone his size to squeeze into and covered by greenery to the point where you would have to be ahead and looking back in your peripheral vision to catch sight of it, like Harry had.

Walking over, Harry delicately slid into the small hollow, trying to make himself comfortable, casually ignoring the insects on the walls. He had slept in a spider infested cupboard for eleven years, a few bugs weren't going to bother him. A few bug bites wouldn't matter—_didn't_ matter—in comparison to the need to stay hidden.

Closing his eyes and concentrating desperately, Harry poured every inch of magic he could without killing himself into warding the tree. It didn't even need to stay long, just for a few days so he could recuperate and recover his magic. Tense minutes passed, glimmering beads of sweat slowly dripping down Harry's brow as he inch by painstaking inch slowly raised the wards.

Finally finished, he collapsed against the back of the hollow, breathing hard. It had been so long since it had been so hard for him to cast a single spell, but he had only just now realized exactly how much a wizard truly depended on his wand.

It was slightly terrifying. If he was caught without his wand, like he was now, he was so close to being defenseless in truly life-risking situations. For everyday tasks, it was doable but not recommended, but now… it was truly eye-opening.

"I have to be stronger," he said aloud to himself. More than anything, Harry could not bear to be weak.

Weak people could only rely on those stronger than him. And Harry could not rely on anyone in this unfamiliar world.

Using the little magic he could spare, Harry cast one final Notice-Me-Not charm just in case, then sank into blissful unconsciousness.

…

Harry woke up to a dark blue sky, speared through with brilliant colors. The sun blazed fierily, filtering through the leaves hiding him, casting himself in an ethereal reddish green shade.

He felt _so much _better. It was an exhilarating and wonderful feeling to have his magic almost completely back again. When his core was so drained, he felt sickeningly empty, and with an insatiable _yearning_.

Now, though, he felt content and satisfied, relaxing in the sweet beauty of the world.

When he closed his eyes, he could almost believe that he was back at Hogwarts, where the happiest (and some of the worst, but he wouldn't mention that now) memories of his life had been formed, sitting by the lake and laughing with his friends.

He basked in the magnificent feeling, a soft smile spreading over his face as he gazed through the translucent leaves, admiring the way the sunlight played on the "walls" of his little hollow.

And then a piercing shriek tore through the air, shattering the glorious illusion Harry had so sweetly clung onto.

He automatically reached for his wand holster, belatedly realizing that he didn't actually _have_ a wand at the moment—then froze as his fingers actually touched smooth wood.

His hand shaking, Harry delicately took the long piece of wood out, running over it with his fingers, a mixture of disbelief, awe, and uneasiness creeping up on him.

What… What in the world was this?

Harry knew for certain that he did _not_ have a wand before he had gone to recuperate, and he was just as sure that nobody had broken his wards. No matter how strange Harry's magic was, Harry was pretty certain that it didn't and couldn't summon things when he was in a completely exhausted coma, for that was what his sleep basically was.

He carefully closed his fist around the handle, shivering as he did so. The wand was cold as ice—cold as death. Harry swallowed down the rather sickening feeling, concentrating on the positive sides.

At least he had a wand now, even if was slightly disturbing when considering how exactly he had gotten it back! Look on the bright side, right…

Whatever. He'd freak out later. He should be getting down to business now, considering he only had less than a week.

Harry tore down his wards, crawling out of the little hollow. As an afterthought, he reapplied a Notice-Me-Not charm, certain it would be useful.

He stood up, dusting the dirt, leaves, and stray bugs off of him, looking around at his surroundings. Everything looked vaguely familiar, but considering how completely out of it he was yesterday, he didn't even know exactly where he was. Or what day it was, for that matter.

"_Tempus_," he muttered aloud, and the day and time appeared in front of him, hanging briefly before him in faintly glowing letters, before vanishing in miniature explosions of color.

"Wednesday, three o'clock…" he muttered aloud, a little surprised. He had actually slept for almost two days straight. "So much time wasted already."

After a moment's consideration as to what he should do now, Harry decided to go with what was quickly becoming one of his favorite and most used spells.

"_Point me, badge eighty_," he murmured, relishing the feeling of the magic welling up in him. He had only been drained for a short while, and yet the haunting feeling stuck strongly in his mind. He loved the magic within him all the more now that he had experienced how empty he felt without it.

The wand spun three times before zeroing in towards the north-eastern part of the island.

Thus, with no further ado, Harry slipped on his invisibility cloak, strengthened the Notice-Me-Not charm over him, and headed off in the direction pointed out to him, doing his best to move quietly.

Every step he took felt extraordinarily loud, as if every dry leaf and twig that ever existed was crunching under him. It was making his nerves fray wildly, and soon he was jumping at every shadow.

Finally, unable to bear it anymore, Harry just unshrunk his Firebolt and flew carefully towards the forest instead, making sure not to hit his head on any branches and knock himself out.

It didn't take him long before he flew right into a small clearing… where both Hisoka and Gitturackur were.

It took every single survival instinct that Harry had ever had not to simply scream curses out at the world, but most specifically at the two insanely strong monsters in front of him. He only distantly noticed the corpse lying prone on the floor.

'Why. Me. What did I do in my life to deserve this?' Harry moaned to himself, not even daring to move a muscle, just levitating silently in mid-air, trying not to even so much as _breathe._ After all, he had more than enough experience to be able to know just how insane their hearing was.

All he could do now was sit and _pray_ that the extremely over-powered Notice-Me-Not charm would do its job.

Silently, without even twitching, Harry cast a rather handy spell he had learned over the years that allowed him to listen in on others conversations. (It was actually partially created by George Weasley, based off of the Extendable Ears)

"…about the sheet?" Hisoka's voice echoed clearly in his ears.

"I already got it," Gitturackur replied in his raspy voice, holding up badge three hundred seventy-one—or so Harry believed, though even his cured eyesight wasn't the best. "With that, I have six points.

"I'll give this one to you. It's useless to me." Another white badge was held up, number…

Harry stiffened, delicately leaning forward slightly on his Firebolt and straining his eyes to try and see the number more clearly. There's _no way_ he could be that unlucky, right?

Unfortunately, he couldn't delude himself any longer.

Number eighty. The badge Gitturackur held was number freaking _eighty_.

Why was this his life?

Harry bit his lip, briefly wondering what to do, but quickly focused back on the conversation that was still taking place.

"Whose sheet is it?" Hisoka asked, looking remarkably bored with it all.

"Its owner tried to kill me with a bullet. I got too excited, so I killed him immediately. Anyway, you can have it. I don't need it." With that said, Gitturackur started walking away, steps creaking.

"Where are you going? Aren't you done already?" Hisoka called out from behind Gitturackur, sitting down on a rock and crossing his legs. "I thought it would be more in your character to just sleep through the rest of the Phase."

Gitturackur paused, turning jerkily around. "I have to go kill someone."

Hisoka's thin eyebrows rose. "Would that be number three hundred seventy-one?"

"He saw my true form… And I would like to discover what those abilities of his are… He escaped my attack. I'll just kill him after I find out how." Explanation given, Gitturackur continued walking, soon disappearing from view into the surrounding forests.

"A pity… I liked him too," Hisoka said aloud, but overall didn't seem too bothered.

Harry, on the other hand, was _quite disturbed_. So he had a homicidal killer on his tail, wishing him dead! Sure, he could probably deal with that, though it would be quite troublesome. It wouldn't be the first time it's happened, after all.

And then he also had to worry about protecting his badge, and stealing his target's badge. He definitely wanted to pass, after all—there was no way he went through _all this trouble_ just to fail here. But he could even deal with that. It would be slightly more difficult, but he would be fine.

But then there was the knowledge that it was _Hisoka _who currently had the badge that was his target. Anyone else. Seriously, _anyone else_ would've been fine, but no. He had to try and get that badge out of _Hisoka's_ grasp.

Dear Merlin, he was so screwed.

He supposed he could always go after three other people, but Harry wasn't exactly _that good_ at multitasking. He didn't know if he could manage to protect, let alone steal, three extra badges, especially as he wasn't trying to kill anyone. It would be incredibly difficult.

What to do…?

Harry canceled the listening spell, but remained levitating, still not daring to move as long as Hisoka was still sitting there. The red-haired man didn't particularly seem inclined to leave anytime soon either.

He just distracted himself with wandering thoughts as to what exactly he'd done in a previous life to deserve this, what he should do next, and just watching the forests for anything interesting, letting the time pass until Hisoka decided to move.

Finally, as the sun completely disappeared under the horizon line, Harry's eyes caught a movement down below.

"Well… Two more points to go. I might as well begin," Hisoka said aloud, stretching out long limbs as he stood up.

Harry, after a second of thought, quickly reactivated the tracking and monitoring spells on everyone, trailing as quietly as he could behind the tattooed jester.

He had originally been planning on simply deactivating the spells on the children after he had checked to make sure he knew that they were alive, and only keeping Hisoka's activated—and then he sensed it.

Completely shocked, Harry ran headfirst into a tree branch, a loud crack echoing through the entire forest. He barely caught himself from falling face first onto the forest floor, holding his breath desperately and praying that Hisoka wouldn't find him.

Harry averted his eyes slightly from Hisoka's figure, watching the man out of his peripheral vision, trying not to let Hisoka feel his gaze. He himself felt eyes practically searing holes into his body, Hisoka's golden eyes unblinking.

A second later, a playing card came whizzing towards him. Unable to move—both out of surprise and for the knowledge that that would _definitely_ give away his position, Harry could only squeeze his eyes tightly shut, hoping that luck would be on his side for once.

A heartbeat passed, and Harry was still alive.

After another moment of only crickets chirping, Harry slowly opened one eye, then the other when nothing else came flying towards him.

His breath hitched in his throat as he saw the playing card—a Joker, he dimly noted—embedded into a tree not even a centimeter from his head. He swallowed, frozen in shock. He could still feel Hisoka' narrowed, sharp golden eyes, though a completely contrasting smirk was on the man's face.

Finally, the eyes turned away, and Harry silently let out the breath he was holding.

This time, he made sure to watch his surroundings even as he contemplated what he had just discovered.

Gon was trailing Hisoka as well. The boy's presence was strangely… _muted_, but it was unmistakable. Not even ten feet from him, Gon was stealthily following the red-haired man.

Was Hisoka Gon's target then? Harry didn't particularly want to get involved in that showdown, if it ever happened, but he _had_ made a promise to himself to protect the children…

Ugh. He'd deal with that when it came.

As Hisoka paused for a moment, then began gracefully leaping up a cliff, Harry angled his broom upwards as well, hovering constantly above Hisoka's head. Once both of them got to the top, Harry followed the man's gaze into the distance.

…Harry couldn't see a thing.

So his eyesight was corrected. It was still at the level of a _normal_ person, thank you very much. It wasn't his fault he wasn't a superhuman.

Suddenly, a foreboding feeling crept up on him at the gleeful smirk that abruptly appeared on Hisoka's sharp-featured face, and the muttered words that rang out so wickedly. "Ho… Maybe those two.

"How… _amusing._"

A worried and almost _afraid _surge in Gon's 'energy', which he could feel through the monitoring charm, sent a chill up Harry's spine. It couldn't be…

Harry honed in on Kurapika and Killua's links instead, confirming his suspicions.

Kurapika was dead ahead, right where Hisoka's gaze led. In all likelihood, from what he understood of Hisoka's goals… Kurapika was the next target.

Harry grimaced to himself, following along behind Hisoka as the man set off. He _could_ just leave now, letting the children take care of themselves—after all, they had gotten this far pretty much all by their own strength—but, unfortunately, his moral obligations just didn't allow it.

Life would be _so much_ easier if he didn't have his moral compass.

Harry gripped his wand in one hand. Unless absolutely necessary, he didn't want to get involved. But, for now, he would simply continue watching over Kurapika and Gon, as they were the ones who seemed to be in immediate and extreme danger.

All too quickly, Hisoka neared Kurapika's location. With a single fluid movement, Hisoka leaped into the clearing where Kurapika—and, unexpectedly, Leorio as well—were standing.

(Actually, why was it that every time there was a dramatic showdown, there was always a convenient clearing available as well?)

"Hello," Hisoka greeted, eyes narrowed in interest.

Both Kurapika and Leorio continued to look wary, with good reason. If you didn't remain cautious around someone as dangerous as Hisoka, you were dead meat.

"I need two more points, thus two more tags," Hisoka continued onwards, in that poison-and-honey voice, so absolutely deadly and yet so velvety. The man spread his hand out in that familiar elegant gesture. "Why don't you give me yours?"

"What?" Leorio looked furious. "Are you kidding? I…"

Harry silently willed Leorio to _shut the hell up_. Thankfully, Kurapika interfered.

"Leorio," the blond boy said quietly, a clear warning in his voice. Then he turned his attention to Hisoka. "You did say two points, right? Meaning we aren't your targets to begin with?"

"I'm the one asking questions here," was Hisoka's enigmatic reply, answering nothing. "So… do you accept or do you refuse?"

"There's a condition," Kurapika replied tensely, a bead of sweat slowly rolling down his forehead. "We're in the possession of four tags…"

Harry listened to Kurapika's long explanation, which also served as a negotiation, with wide eyes, quite impressed. There was no way Harry would have the clarity of mind or patience in such a situation to have even thought of such a thing. That had always been Ron's forte, with his best friend's talent for strategy.

"…if you want them… Then you'll have to take them by force." Harry zoned back in right at Kurapika's harsh declaration, as the blond boy unsheathed a pair of wooden swords. At the same moment, Leorio pulled out several gleaming daggers, raising them between two fingers.

Harry sucked in a quick breath, gripping the Elder Wand even tighter, a spell on the tip of his tongue.

The tension in the air was so thick that it could be cut with a knife. On top of Harry's own apprehension, he could also sense Gon's worry and Kurapika's desperate determination. From Hisoka's link, though, he could feel absolutely nothing.

Then, abruptly, the pressure was shattered as Hisoka started laughing, deep in his throat. "Hehehe… Well played. I accept.

"I have a counter negotiation, however. Do one more thing for me," Hisoka continued, dangerous golden eyes flashing even in the darkness of the night.

"…What is it?" Kurapika asked, still staying low in his offensive stance, clearly ready to attack or defend at any moment. "No matter what, I won't hand any of the other three tags over."

"It's nothing much," Hisoka replied, tone airy and lighthearted. "All I want is for you to tell your little friend to come out."

From the link, Harry felt Gon's… not quite _fear_, but something very close surge, the black-haired boy tensing.

"Our… friend? Who are you talking about?" Kurapika asked, eyebrows furrowing and expression suspicious.

"Why, number three hundred and seventy three-san of course," Hisoka answered, eyes closing in a dangerous smile.

Harry's eyes widened and he swore to himself in his head, already turning on his broom and ready to zoom off. Kurapika certainly seemed to have the situation under control, but if he was discovered, he couldn't say he would have the same success.

Then razor sharp cards flew at him from behind, catching onto his invisibility cloak and yanking it off, at the same time knocking him off the broom. Crashing to the ground, Harry broke his fall, rolling to lessen the impact.

Pivoting on one foot, he turned back around to face Hisoka, who looked more gleeful then he had ever seen before. Through the link, he could feel the man's curiosity—and the man's ever-present blood thirst.

Hisoka tilted his head, almost crooning out the next sentence. "It's been a while…

"_Harry._"

_A/N: I'M SO FREAKING DONE. That was honestly _so difficult_. It took at least seven drafts before I got something I was even halfway satisfied with. I'm sorry I completely skimmed over the Third Phase. I just really, really didn't want to write it. _

_I'm really sorry. It took such a long time and the end result wasn't even that good… I apologize. You guys definitely deserve better, with all the kind support you all give me. I'll do better next time, I promise! _

_Just out of curiosity… Is anyone dissatisfied with each chapter length? I know there are some people who prefer shorter chapters, though personally I enjoy reading long chapters, and thus I write long chapters. If enough people prefer something different, I can try to change it. _

_Still, thank you all for your wonderful support. You've all been more kind to me than I deserve. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I truly hope you enjoyed this chapter, sucky as it was. I'll do my best to get the next chapter out sooner, and of a much higher quality too! _


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